Star's Journey: The Hall of Masks
by Freida Right
Summary: -part IV of V- With much thanks to Star and her family, the time for the Zebak rebellion to rise up is near at hand: there is to be a grand masked ball, and the whole of the Dragon Lord's army is invited to attend. But the queen is not at all what she seems. She carries deadly secrets of her own. Little does Star know, she and all her friends are walking into a deadly trap...
1. The Story Thus Far

_**The Story Thus Far…**_

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 _Star of Rin once lived a normal life, though she has always known without a doubt that she is destined to do great things in time. Her father, Rowan, was once an unlikely keeper of the bukshah; he is now a famous hero, and the Titan of Earth—one of four keepers of deep, Dragon borne magic. Her mother, Zeel, was once captain of the Traveler forerunners, and a lost child of their people's feared and ancient enemy, the Zebak. Star is their only child, and a brilliant writer. She has tasked herself with writing down the adventures her parents shared as children, and hopes to write of their land's great histories._

 _It has been nearly two years since Star, her three cousins, and the boy Zan set out from Rin on a mission to rescue her mother from the Zebak lands. In that time, they have been swept up in the brewing secret rebellion led by Zan's oldest brother, Zamiel. The rebellion has grown with time, with much thanks to Star and her family; and now Habaharan City is silently looking forward to a day in the near future when the Dragon Lords will be overthrown once and for all, and the Zebak people may finally walk free._

 _Since arriving in Habaharan, Star has met many people and made many friends and allies. Vivi and Zizi, once orphaned thieves, now live with her and her family at Bhlai House – home of the healer Thora, who looks after Zan and his brothers like her own children. June, her best friend, is training to be a dancer thanks to her involvement in the rebellion, sneaking news and encouragement to her household. Keids, king of Habaharan's underground pirate den, has found favor with the rebels, and has agreed to lend them any help he can._

 _However, the rebellion has many enemies; and Zadina, the wrathful queen and Titan of Fire, has her best generals searching relentlessly for its leaders. Among these generals is Lord Azan, the cruel and cunning general who owns Zan and his brothers. Thora has begun to suspect that their master may suspect them, at last, and all the rebellion is fearful of him. Also under the general's heel is Tiba, June's horrible older sister, who would do anything to win her master's affection – even if it meant betraying her own family._

 _The rebellion is poised to spring a trap, biding its time and awaiting its moment of truth. Little do they know, Zadina holds frightening secrets of her own. Fear is rising in her heart. Rebellion is a thing she cannot allow. For many reasons. While the rebels lie in wait, their malevolent queen is preparing an inescapable trap of her own._

 _ **Now read on…**_


	2. Chapter 1: The Library

Isn't this exciting? 8D

I could tell from the PMs I've received over my hiatus that this installment was much anticipated – especially by a certain someone who guessed my greatest secret! The clues are cleverly hidden throughout the last three books, and I had almost hoped someone would be sharp enough to spot them and put them together. Good eyes, my friend. ;D

This one, not unlike DQ, is a lot darker and terrible than the previous ones. The Garaseds are trying to start a war, after all. And that's exactly what we will all get before the end. _Spoilers: it's not pretty and this book will not end well one bit at all._

But more of that later. First, some lighthearted fun-times.

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 _Chapter 1: The Library_

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It was another warm, sticky summer in Habaharan City. As Star strolled through Southside with a few books tucked under her arm, she took the time to gaze around the streets she had come to know so well. The worn but sturdy homes stood in their neatly packed rows, the same as always. Bees and butterflies flitted around potted flowers and trees outside of doors. Cats with mottled coats napped lazily in windowsills, enjoying the sunshine on their backs.

Marked, friendly faces stopped to smile and wave as she passed, and she stopped to smile and wave back at each one. Now and again, those smiles would come with a knowing wink, for all the common folk of Southside now knew perfectly well who she was, where she was going, and what she was up to. If Star knew the person well enough, she would return the gesture with a grin; otherwise, she simply smiled back in her kind, hopeful way to show that she had seen and understood.

This was normal for Star now. If she had been in her homeland, though, she supposed she would have felt the same sense of content familiarity, as she had walked down streets and past buildings she had known all her life, on her way to the house of books. It was summertime in Rin, too, after all. The part of the world which more and more Zebak folk were calling the Arin lands would be gloriously colored by now. The flowers on the orchard trees would be changing to fruit in the shade of green leaves. The fields would be full of golden crops, shining in the sunlight. The stream that fed their land would be flashing blue and white in the midday sun. The great, gentle bukshah would be like large spots of gray in the distance – all but the one black member of the herd, of course. And hovering over it all would be the expanse of the mountain, home of the Dragon Finlair, Lord of Earth: all gray and brown, but for its icy white peak.

The image of her homeland swam before Star's eyes, and she enjoyed it as she walked. Not as a fond memory of home, though, but simply as a nice idea to look at in her mind. As if it were perhaps a well-drawn picture in a book she had read, about some foreign land which she might like to visit one day. She had been born in Rin and lived most of her life there, but it no longer felt like _home_ to her. More and more of its details had slipped from her mind, as the details of her current life had replaced them. She couldn't quite picture the streets or the buildings that lined them anymore, nor the names and faces of the people who lived and worked in them.

Her father would have been appalled to learn that she couldn't remember the names of any of the bukshah – with the obvious exception of Treasure, the black one, who _everyone_ remembered. The beasts had raised her nearly as much as her own family. Star even thought that once, when she had been very little, one of them had spoken to her and she had understood. Perhaps she had, perhaps she hadn't. Even then, she hadn't remembered what that one beast had been trying to say. She used to wonder about it often and if it had been a dream. The idea used to delight her. Thinking of it now, she found it hard to care very much about it. That saddened her slightly, but she felt no shame.

She smiled to herself as she recalled one or two places she could still picture perfectly, down to the last detail. Her father's house and its yard with its tree. The bakery where her godfather worked. The orchard and its dreamy afternoon shade, every tree in its place and so familiar, so quiet and peaceful. The way from her front step to the house of books, and then the house of books itself and every shelf and tome within. She was sure that she could still walk that whole way blindfolded, or in her sleep, without getting lost.

Which was funny, she thought as she entered the Southside library. All this time later, she had come to know another, much larger building full of books just as well. In fact, she thought with a swell of pride, she had added to its collection. Such a thing never would have done in Rin, no matter how well-written or true her work was, because she was still a child. Happily for her, the Zebak thought differently about many things.

Like everything else, the library was as she always found it. And the first thing she saw was the elderly librarian, as it always was. The weathered old woman was fussily organizing some books at the front counter, and looked up without surprise to see who had interrupted her work. She set those books aside with a shrug, took up her cane, and hobbled around the counter with an air of great independence.

"Such fine summer weather we are having," she said, slowly and clearly, in spite of her cracked voice and thick accent.

Star smiled and nodded politely. "It is, unless you are stung by a bee," she answered.

The old woman grinned and shook her head, beckoning for Star to come with her. "Bah, all this riddles nonsense," she scoffed, much more herself. "I know who my Mahna is, every day. Come, come. _Na'ad'attase't_ , they are waiting for you."

By which Star had come to learn she meant her grandsons, who printed books in the basement below the library. Star followed her patiently, as the woman took her time walking.

"I know you dislike having to use codes, Porii," she said kindly, "but Zamiel insists on it. It is how rebels know each other around the city. If we recognize each other, we can trust each other."

"Bah," Porii scoffed again, more irritated this time as she led Star down a flight of stairs. "All us are rebels these days. I know my rebels anywhere. I not need riddles. I know my Mahna. She is my _abissi_ – little fighting bee spirit, every day. I not need riddles."

Star could appreciate Porii's view on the riddles and codes that now secretly ran the lives of Southside's people. There were new ones every few weeks, for nearly everything that the people might do – from buying and selling goods, to greeting one another in the street, to welcoming guests into their homes. Many others found such secrecy tedious, even aggravating, in spite of its necessity. It was simple, really. If a greeting was not exchanged in the agreed upon way, one person was clearly not a rebel, perhaps an agent of the queen who was seeking them so viciously, and so not to be trusted with news and idle talk.

But such a password became too obvious to outsiders before too long, which was why they were changed so often. It was, in large part, why Star had come to see Porii's grandsons, who also printed a local newspaper.

"Porii, I'm curious," Star said to her. "You and everyone else around knows who I really am. Star is my real name, and my parents chose it for me with great purpose, as you also know. So I must go by Mahna in public, and really don't mind that; but you can feel free to call me Star when we are alone."

Porii scoffed yet again. "Mahna. Star. Is all the same."

"Yes, I know they mean the same thing, but I like my name. And many people do the same, forgetting to call me by it in private. Sometimes I almost wish that you and other people would call me Star, for a change."

Porii turned on the step below her and banged her cane against it for emphasis. "I am old woman," she proclaimed proudly. "I live long time – many years. I am great-grandma! Why I need learn two name, when have one girl? Is all the same."

With that, she banged her cane once more to show that her point had been made, and that it wouldn't do to continue arguing with her. Then she turned back to the stairs, carefully going one step at a time, muttering to herself in her own language with each one. Star recognized a few simple words – _ipe_ , hip; _lantha_ , back; _ishk_ , misfortune; _orse_ , pain. She skipped down a step and tried to take Porii's arm to help her, but was brushed fiercely away.

" _Ane, ane_ , I do myself, Mahna. I not baby," she insisted.

Star understood and stood back, leaving the woman her space. Frail as she seemed, Porii was tougher and stronger than her age, and disliked people helping her about. In fact, she reminded Star of Sheba, her granny, who had passed away the previous year and presumably refused a helping hand to her last breath. Star couldn't help smiling faintly at the idea. She didn't miss much of her homeland; but her granny was one part of it she missed the most.

At the bottom of the stairs was a single plain door with a sliding eye slot, which Star knew was heavily bolted from the other side. As she and Porii finally approached it, gentle, muffled music could be herd playing beyond. Porii made a face and lifted her cane to knock on the door.

"They play that noise again," she complained to Star. "Keep the neighbors up at night. Bring guards to search us. Maybe we die soon. _Ishk, ishk_!"

The slot in the door slid open, and a pair of pale eyes like Star's peered out. Seeing who it was, a smile appeared in those eyes, and they heard the bolt unlocking. When the door opened, a strapping young man several years older than her ushered them inside.

"You're back," he commented. "Is it that time already?"

"It would seem so, Spencer," Star agreed, stepping into the basement. "Zamiel has switched it up a bit, too. People have apparently gotten bored with only two passphrases to choose from, so he's come up with four this time. I understand that he was up late a few nights with Zaneth and Zane figuring them out."

Spencer rubbed his hands together in delight. "Excellent! Variety is the spice of life, I've always said. That's why I love working with books, you know?"

Star couldn't help grinning. "I do know. I love that about books, too."

Spencer grinned back, then looked over his shoulder. "Hey, Seth! Stop the presses! Star's here with the new codes!"

"Done and done," his older brother called back, hidden behind one of the massive presses that filled the basement. There were four in all, contraptions of steel and wood that could print perfectly identical copies of the same page all at the same time. It had taken the brothers time and careful saving to acquire all of them, and each was slightly different in small ways from the others. But they all worked to the same end, which Seth had once commented was all that mattered.

The brothers were some of the first in the city to see Star's greatest written work, carried by happy chance all the way from her homeland. Not realizing at first that the tales within were completely true, they had insisted on printing and binding the first hundred copies of it to share with their friends and families. Those people had gone on to want to share with their friends and families, who had then wanted to do the same. So many people had wanted to read it, every printing press in the city had done nothing but print that one book for days.

And so, faster than Star had ever dreamed possible, _Rowan of Rin_ had gone from a single hand-written notebook to thousands of perfect, published copies in the space of a month.

She still refused to openly accept the credit for her work, because the queen was still searching for the author and certainly had something terrible in store for that person. All the same, she was now quite famous, and she only had Seth and Spencer to thank for it.

The brothers' time was mostly spent on their modest newspaper operation. It remained mainly in their own part of Southside, though they had people who carried it farther. It was full of local news, topics of interest, a few columns by other writers in the neighborhood, and announcements and advertisements. It was identical in most ways to any other paper printed in the city. The only difference was that their paper was now peppered with Zamiel's codes, riddles, and passwords, cleverly disguised within headlines and articles.

To the untrained eye, these hidden messages were invisible. To those who were familiar with the so-called Doric code, however, they were easy enough to find. And by now, most of Southside's commoners had been taught to use it. It was almost pitifully easy to decode, once one knew the trick to it; but figuring it out without help was not so simple. It was just like Zamiel Garased to use it so lovingly.

While the two brothers tended to the presses, Star wandered over to a nearby workbench, the source of the gentle music she had heard from behind the door. On the bench stood a wooden box, decorated with dials and knobs and patterned mesh screens. She smiled at the music humming from within it, and looked over at Seth.

"They've played this one a lot recently," she commented. "Do you mind if I turn it up a bit?"

Seth looked up at her curiously. "Oh, the radio? Go ahead. Spencer and I have been dancing around the basement all morning as it is. You won't be bothering anyone – say for _eb'ati_ , that is."

At the mention of it, Porii scowled at the radio and smacked her cane angrily on the workbench. "All that noise – _ishk_!" she hissed, brushing herself as if to shake off an illness. "They hear and see all in these box, all 'round the city. They hear and find us. Maybe we die soon."

" _Eb'ati_ , that's not how it works, we've told you a dozen times," Spencer explained in a gentle voice, sounding very much like he had said it time and time again. "Sound can only come _out_ of the radio. No one is using it to spy on us."

Unconvinced, Porii continued to glare in contempt at the humming box. "The queen, she have all her spies in all places. She spy on you. She find you! Maybe we die soon." And, wanting no more to do with it, she turned away and hobbled out of the basement to toil back up the stairs without help, muttering all the way in her own language. None of the young people she loved bothered trying to help her, for they all knew by now that she would scold only them for it.

Once she had gone, Star turned one of the radio's knobs and the music grew a little louder. Leaving her things beside it and bringing only one book along, she couldn't help dancing a bit across the room to Seth's side. Seeing this, he couldn't seem to help dancing right along to meet her.

"Fascinating device, the radio," he commented. "It's only been a few months since they introduced it, but I think it's really had an impression on our work, no matter how our poor grandmother feels about it. I wonder how they do it?"

Star laughed. "You mean how the radios work? Oh, squadron C-57 and all their people knew about that long before they were given to the public," she said, pulling a hidden note from the pages of her book. "Rita, one of their members, is married to a man who works for the palace researchers; he signs papers and patents for the machines they create. And if these things are deemed worthy enough, the queen allows the public to have them. So, when he heard that the radio was 'going live' – as he put it – Korus went home and chatted about it with his wife, who immediately told her squad, who immediately told the rest of us. Oh, but that was months ago, back before my birthday, even."

Seth look amazed as he took the note, and Spencer came over to listen. "So you know how they work? You have to tell us, Star! Seth and I have been puzzling over it for weeks! I can't believe you knew of it the whole time and never told us," he complained.

"Well, I don't exactly understand it, myself," Star answered with a shrug. "It's all a deal to do with air stones and some sort of frequency, and magic, I think. It's funny. I used to think it was deep magic like what I've always known, just by another name, because the palace researchers didn't know it for what it was. Now I think that they may be two totally different things, but working together. As if these frequencies were a sort of part of deep magic that I've never known of. Like, maybe it was woven into the magic somehow, and only now we can see it, and study it and learn how to use it like this."

The brothers continued to smile politely, though they had begun to look confused.

"I'm afraid you've lost us, Star," Spencer said in his gentle way.

"It's alright, I was babbling more to myself than actually speaking sensibly," she answered, waving their confusion away. "If you really want to know more about it, come to the next meeting and ask Zan and Zak about it. I have no head for all this new technology, but they live for it. My cousin Leah seems to be enjoying it all, too."

"Huh. That's Forley's sister, right?" Seth asked absently as he looked over the list of codes. "Why is that, do you think?"

"It's something for her to do, I suppose. It isn't like she can be of much use to the rebellion from her hiding place, so she spends all her time reading whatever we can find for her. She'll read nearly anything to pass the time; but Zan keeps bringing her his textbooks on magicites and the wonders they can make possible, so while she's never tried her hand at anything technical, she knows quite a lot about it."

Spencer laughed shortly at the idea, as he began fitting iron stamps into one of the presses. "I bet the two of them have a lot of really boring conversations."

Star shook her head. "No, she has all of those with Zak. Zan, as it turns out, has an appetite for poetry recently. I'm going to check out a new collection before I leave here today, and in return he will let me copy more of his notes into a fresh book."

"You keep mentioning this fresh book of all his ideas. Any idea when it might be finished? Seth and I are dying to have it print-worthy, already."

"Oh, the new book is filling up nicely, and is legible and organized and everything. But I'm afraid it won't do to let Central Control get a hold of such good ideas. Zan will be punished for having them in the first place; and they will be taken and used anyway, against other countries to destroy and conquer them. My father's people won't stand a chance against the things Zan has designed. I fear our neighbors to the south will fare little better. These plans can't be published until things are…. Safer."

Humbled by this idea, the brothers cleared their throats nervously and looked over the new codes with renewed interest. All at once, Seth chuckled to himself, and the tension in the room was suddenly gone.

"Well, if its poetry you want today, I know just the book you should check out," he said brightly. "It's old stuff – classic, very romantic. You can't go wrong with that."

Star smiled back at him. "That does sound more like it," she agreed. "I believe Zan will want to hold onto it for a few days, but I will check it out on his behalf. I trust him well enough to return it in good shape."

"You had better," Seth answered dryly. "You make so little, you can't afford to replace one of our books, let alone an antique. But I have faith in you, Star. If you were untrustworthy with the books you borrow, your fines alone could have bought us a new press by now."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Star laughed. "A whole new press? They must cost a lot more than that."

"Not as much as you might think, my dear," Spencer laughed back, planting his fists proudly on his hips. "At least, not when you know where to look and how to buy them. How do you think we got our hands on these four?"

Star gazed with new sight over the presses, and her mouth fell open a bit. "You run the presses on the library's late fees and fines?"

Seth shrugged. "Those fees are just extra income, but it's free money to be set aside. To have our own things returned to us in one piece, it's no sin to charge a fine for people's carelessness. And believe me, people are more careless than you would hope."

Star shook her head in wonder, covering her gaping mouth with her hand as she thought suddenly of the place she had come from. "If that many people returned that many books that late in Rin, Violet wouldn't let people borrow them anymore. And if someone lost or destroyed one of them…"

"Ah, right, books are precious in your homeland," Seth recalled. "They are all handwritten, one-of-a-kind, and you have no presses to replace them quickly. I can see how a librarian might be upset if one of your books was in danger."

"Have they ever had problems with people returning books?" Spencer asked, suddenly curious and filled with questions. "Do they charge fines as we do, or…? Surely it must be very different."

"It is," Star agreed. "Actually, very few books are removed from the building; so few, there isn't even a pass required to take them. It just happens so rarely; so when it does happen, Violet and her sons can easily remember who has which book, and know where to find it."

Spencer laughed sharply. "How does she know if someone is smuggling the books out under her nose?"

Star pinned him with a look. "Believe me, she knows. When I was little, I tried doing that very thing. For some reason, I thought then that I wasn't allowed to take them and would be in trouble if I did. But my jacket then had pockets on the inside, so I tucked a little picture book into it and tried to sneak off with it. I'm still not sure how Violet knew it was in my pocket – she wasn't around to see or hear me do it, and my parents hadn't noticed, either. Still, she _knew_ somehow, and called me out at once. It remains one of the most dishonest things I've ever done."

Looking a bit astounded, the brothers nodded their heads with great respect. " _Eb'ati_ was always like that," Seth commented. "It was like she had an extra sense, alerting her to when one of her books was in trouble. I find that I've grown a similar sense, myself. It all comes from a lifetime spent in a trade you know and love, I suppose."

And then, remembering something, Spencer snapped his fingers suddenly. "That one boy you used to complain about, he was the librarian's son, wasn't he?"

Star rolled her eyes, hating to be reminded. "Oh, Luke. Right. I remember less and less of my growing up, but I'll never be able to escape him, it seems. Everyone wants to hear about him and how he used to bully me. I don't understand why."

"I was just asking," Spencer said with a shrug.

"But," his older brother cut in quickly, "we can see all the reasons you might want to forget about him. The lad sounds like an oaf and a half, to be sure. And you believe he used to fancy you? You, a brilliant and lovely young lady with a head full of ideas? No wonder! But you have your Zan now, and I should think he suits you much better."

Feeling cheered by all this, Star smiled. "I've never been happier in my life until recently. Having Zan instead of Luke is certainly part of it," she agreed.

Seth smiled back. "That young man adores you, and make no mistake. It's a good trade, if you ask me, though I suppose you don't really have to."

"No, I don't," she replied smartly. "I'm rather fond of him, myself."

Spencer looked off into space, thinking for a moment, and then whistled to himself. "One of Central Control's perfect super soldiers, and the child of a Titan. Imagine the children. Just think of it!"

Seth smacked the younger man's head, grumbling that his lack of tact was embarrassing, and that their mother would have been furious to hear him speaking like that. Star found that she was blushing terribly; although, she silently agreed that the idea was certainly something to think about.

"It's a bit early to be talking like that," she mused. "I'm not of age until next spring, for one thing. And for another… Well, there's still a war to be fought and won. If we win it—no, _when_ we win it—then perhaps we can revisit that."

The brothers stopped their quarreling and looked at her in amazement.

"I was only half kidding, you know," said Spencer. "If we do win the war and all we hope for comes true, you will be able to return to the Arin lands with the rest of your family. Don't you want to go home, after all this time?"

Star hesitated. So far, whenever it was brought up, she had artfully skirted around having to speak her own mind. Since bringing her father's source of power to Habaharan and acquiring it for herself, she found herself unable to speak anything but the truth. And for her family, who wanted nothing more than to return to their homeland, she knew that the truth would be hurtful to them.

However, it occurred to her that her family was several blocks away, and not there to be hurt by that truth. And so, for the first time, she spoke her mind out loud.

"I love this city and it's people, and I love serving them. They allow me to serve them in the first place. They respect my work and my talents, and don't look down on me because I'm too different, or too young, or for any other reason. I love Zan, too, and want to be with him. How can I _go_ home, when I'm already here?"

"But, Rin—"

"Rin stopped being my home the moment I left," Star interrupted, shaking her head. "After running off the way I did, they will never welcome me back. Not forever, anyway. My cousins, my mother, and my brother, they will welcome back with open arms; but they will treat me like a traitor for taking the Earth sigil, and blame me for putting ideas in my cousin's heads. It's just a place I once lived, now. My future lies here, in Habaharan. I made up my mind about this a long time ago."

Seth grunted in disgust over this. "You shouldn't have to fear them. It's not right of your people to turn their back on you like that."

Star came over and put her hand on his shoulder. "You are my people, too, you know. More so than the Arin ever have been. It will be a sad thing to say goodbye to my family, yes. But I have family here, now, and they will need me far more. No doubt there will be much to do when the war is won. I will be proud to stay, and help rebuild our people, and our city, side by side as it should be."

Seth put his hand on hers, and his mouth twisted into a wry smile. "You speak with boldness and bravery, as usual, Star of Habaharan," he said quietly. "Boldness and bravery that have yet to be tested. War is a grizzly thing. You might not speak so boldly when it comes to pass."

Patting his shoulder, Star left him to gather her things. "I will just have to deal with whatever comes, then. It's too late to take those words back now. For now, there will be no war without an informed army of citizens and soldiers, and so I will leave the two of you to your printing."

"You leave us already?" Spencer whined. "But you only just got here! Stay a while and keep us company. Spare me a dance, at least, while the radio is turned up."

Star laughed over her shoulder as she walked to the door. "I'll see the two of you in a few weeks or so, if not sooner. The day and time of the next meeting is among the bulletins I've brought in code, and we hope to see you there."

"But of course," Seth answered. "It's where we get most of the best news. And don't you forget your poetry on your way out. It's in the nonfiction section. _Great Masters of Classic Verse_ , I believe it is called. Big, old book. Worn leather binding. Fancy purple lettering you can barely read on the spine. You won't miss it."

" _Na'makshe'ik_ ," she replied – an awfully long way of saying _thank you_ , she had always thought. "I will see you both at the meeting, then. _Ad'aste_ , Spender. _Ad'aste_ , Seth."

" _Ad'aste_ , Star," the brothers said in one voice.

"Your old tongue is showing a lot of improvement," Seth added as she let herself out. "But work on your accent before trying it on _eb'ati_. She will scold your ear off, as it is."

Nodding her thanks for the warning, Star shut the door behind her and skipped up the stairs, humming along with the muffled sound of the radio.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I'm not overly fond of mass exposition to kick off a story, as you all may know by now. But I like to think it was an okay recap, so I won't beat myself about it.

Yes, there's a whole language now. Since Rodda was making one up for _Star of Deltora_ , and I happen to have been forming one of my own since middle school, I thought I'd go ahead and go for it. I believe the official name of the language is _laira'dirsa_ , or "dragon-tongue". _Na_ is just the definite article "the", which is why so much of it begins that way. For some reason, I decided way back when that individual words are contracted together with apostrophes so that each separate clause is just one big word; it was different and neat, so I continued to roll with it all these years.

So, _na'makshe'ik_ literally translates to "the pleasure is mine"; and _ad'aste_ literally translates to "from love", but is their phrase for "goodbye". _Eb'ati_ is "of mother", and _ad'atassa_ is "from son". You get the gist. God, I love this language I've made. XD

Star and Zan are totally dating now, and have been since the moment you last saw them. Hooray! Alanis is….. Not enthusiastic about this, but everyone else kind of tunes her out. More about that another time.


	3. Chapter 2: The Near Future

_Chapter 2: The Near Future_

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Zadina – Dragon Lord, Titan of Fire, and Queen of all the Zebak, among other titles – was stalking through the palace halls, on what the guards attending her must have assumed was a very important errand. The queen's step was haughty and totally sure as it always was; but today, there was impatience and a sense of urgency, also. Surely, those two guards had wondered what their malevolent monarch might be up to. They knew better than to make any sound or let their thoughts show on their faces, of course, because they were of Central Control, and such fancies had been beaten out of them long ago.

This idea passed with remarkable clarity through Zadina's mind, however, and she allowed herself a cruel smirk over it. The notion suited her well, just now. These two were palace guards, assigned to duties within its walls for the remainder of their pitiful lives. They were typical of that particular breed of officer, a breed that was trained to behave quite differently from most others in the city.

And because they were confined to the isolation of the palace, there were no thoughts of rebellion planted in their minds. They did not dwell among the upstart commoners in the city below, or their crafty, slippery leaders. The very idea of a rebellion filled these two with anger and suspicion. They would rise a once to the defense of their queen and her house, without thought or question, as they had been told to from the day they had entered this world. There was no other reality for them.

In this way, at least, she knew she was safe. Protected. Untouchable. It made all the weaknesses in her once flawless defense make her feel all the more exposed.

Time was running short, she felt in her vain heart. She quickened her pace, forcing the guards behind her to march faster.

Her journey through the halls, corridors, and staircases she had grown up in led her down to the base level of the palace, a place she rarely ever ventured. It was far too close to the ground, her grandfather had firmly explained to her once. No proper Dragon Lord ought to be so close to the raw earth, or the commoners that crawled around on it. Yet the entrance to the royal laboratories lay here. And it was the scientists in the vaults still below that she wished to speak with.

These scientists had no idea that their queen was coming down into those secret, wondrous chambers to view their projects. They lived in deeper seclusion than most people who worked in the palace. Her surprise visit would surely be the highlight and honor of all their lives.

What a good and generous queen she was, she decided.

As she reached the door that led down to the labs, she turned to face the two guards behind her. They stood rigidly, silently, awaiting her command.

"This meeting is no concern of yours," she announced shortly. "You are to stand here and await my return. Do not speak a word of my presence here to anyone who asks. This will not take long."

No doubt they were also awaiting her command to one of them to step forward and open the heavy iron door for her. They must have been shocked and perhaps a bit scandalized when she gripped the heavy knob and wrenched the door open for herself with a vengeance. The door was every ounce as heavy as it looked, and the act was far too low for anyone as mighty as the Dragon Lord. But Zadina was as strong and capable as any of her officers; and on occasion, she did like to do small things for herself, with her own two powerful hands.

There was only so much she _could_ do, in the end. With an army of unwilling servants to clean her quarters, cook her meals, press her clothes, sign her papers, and guard her back, how was a queen really to fill so much empty time?

The descent into the laboratory was dark and dank. Zadina had to lift the he of her fine gown to hurry down the stair, worried more about tripping in the darkness than ruining such an expensive garment that could be destroyed and replaced with the wave of her hand. In little time, she stormed into the hazy light of a vast underground warehouse, filled with long tables and complicated equipment, and startled researchers in white coats.

These people were nearly ghastly to look at. Years spent in the unnatural light had left their once bronze skin bleached and pale. Many wore spectacles of varying thickness, their bright eyes long ago ruined from ceaseless underground study. In their stark white coats, they appeared thin and frail. Every one of them was gasping in fright at their queen's sudden appearance, and some of the younger ones had even squealed in terror.

If not for their marked faces, it would have been hard to guess that they were Zebak at all.

"Where is doctor Barret?" the queen demanded in a loud voice, which echoes into all corners of the lab. "Bring him to me at once!"

"More easily done than said, your majesty," said a calm, polite voice on her right. Walking steadily toward her was a tall man like most in the lab, though he spoke, walked, and looked as though he had some dignity about him. An assistant scurried after him, trying not to stare in fearful awe at her queen, but plainly too frightened and dazzled to tear her gaze away.

The tall man stopped at a respectful distance, standing at attention and bowing stiffly.

"I am doctor Halek Barret, head of research and development, at your humble service, my queen," he said simply. "With me is Beiyu, my apprentice, who is also at your humble service. How may we assist you this day?"

Zadina couldn't help being impressed with the man. If he had been as frightened as the rest of his people, he had yet to show it. And surely his head was as brilliant as it was level, if he was the scientist who ran the lab. He had served her grandfather in his youth, no doubt as an apprentice like Beiyu; and now, all these years later, he held no small amount of authority and power. Certainly, he commanded these people far more than their queen did – they rarely ever crossed her mind.

His trembling apprentice was to be commended, too, she supposed. Though she was plainly terrified, she was at least making an effort to control herself, and following her master's every polite gesture. She would grow to command these laboratories just as handily as Halek Barret someday. Zadina could see it just from glancing over her. There was potential in her. And where there was potential, there could only be greatness.

But Zadina refused to let on that they had found favor with her. Not showing a trace of her appraisal on her face, she crossed her arms impatiently and continued to scowl at them.

"We are both busy, I suppose, and so I will be brief," she began. "Commands were sent to you some time ago to revisit your ideas for a flying ship. Have you answered them?"

The doctor nodded in his polite way. "Oh, yes, your majesty," he answered. "A suggestion was attached to those commands that magicites might be involved this time. I remember that day well."

"And the results?"

"Have been fruitful so far. Designs have been drawn up, and components are being tested as we speak. Our inventory budget has risen slightly, but it is proving to be a worthwhile investment."

"I wish to see your progress. Immediately."

Again, the doctor nodded, and graciously waved his arm to welcome her. "Right this way, by all means, your majesty. I believe you will like what you see."

Hoping very much that the doctor was right about that, she followed him deeper into the lab, doing her best not to notice the equipment, or the blueprints on the walls, or the mousy researchers too much. She had no head for their work, though it fascinated her intensely.

"You see how it is done, young one," Barret was murmuring to Beiyu. "Your wording is very important in moments such as this. A novice might have suggested, 'Come with me,' or even worse, ' _Follow_ me.' Never imply that the Dragon Lord is to come after you. Never put yourself ahead of them. Be gracious, but also subservient. Assure them that you know your place, and theirs. Remind them always that you are nothing without them. It takes practice and a careful mind, but you will learn in time. Your life depends upon it."

"Yes, master," Beiyu agreed obediently.

And to this, Zadina simply had to smile and give an abrupt, approving laugh.

"That is true enough," she added. "In his day, grandfather was forced to end many promising careers for such an error; and it would be a shame to repeat the past, when we might have learned so much from it. You teach your pupils well, doctor."

"My deepest thanks, your majesty," Barret answered humbly.

"And you, girl, mind your master well," Zadina dared to say directly to Beiyu. "He has a great deal of wisdom and sense to impart to you. Great things have come out of these labs under his command. I now expect nothing less from you."

Somehow looking more and less frightened at the same time, Beiyu straightened herself, squaring her slim shoulders and forcing herself to look her queen in the eye. "My deepest thanks, your majesty," she said, strengthening her voice and imitating her teacher as best she could.

This time, Zadina was moved to laugh a little harder. "Such a good apprentice you have here, doctor. She learns quickly – an admirable quality in a good servant. Harder and harder to come by, it seems."

Barret glanced in concern at her, and cleared his throat. "If I may be so bold, something appears to be troubling you, my lady. I only hope that our research can cheer you. I have sent every detail of our progress upstairs; though I fear they must seem pitiful compared to your usual goings on. So pitiful, I am humbled if you have had the time to look over them."

"On the contrary, my good doctor, I have followed every step off your progress," Zadina replied coolly. "I did not suggest you return to this project lightly, over mere whimsy. I have… _Enormous_ interest in your findings."

"Ah, of course. There must be a reason for so much interest."

Zadina cut her ruby eyes at him. "My reasons are of no concern to you," she growled.

"I mean no offense, my lady," the doctor insisted, unfazed by her mood. "An error on my part. I meant to say, if we knew what you have in store for these flying ships, we might be able to design them with your plans in mind."

Slowly considering this, Zadina sighed, realizing that the doctor had a point.

"I will not press the matter, of course," Barret said quickly. "We have only just begun our first tests, and so the purpose of the ships is not to be considered for some time, yet. We will revisit this another time, when it becomes relevant. Who is to say that the reasons will not have changed by then? Perhaps it is foolish to ponder that yet."

"Yes, I suppose it is," Zadina relented. "There are many reasons…"

Barret continued looking concerned; but this time, he wisely kept his concerns to himself.

"Ah, but put these troubling reasons out of your magnificent head for now, your majesty," he insisted. "For the moment, enjoy what we have to show you, if it pleases you enough. You have graced us with your presence at an opportune moment, my lady: we are testing a part for the engines for the first time today."

Barret showed her to one of the many long tables, strewn with tools and gears and gadgets she couldn't make sense of. The researchers who stood around it scrambled out of the way, gawking in fear at over their queen, in also in amazement at Barret and Beiyu's composure. From among the jumbled of wire and metal on the table, the doctor picked up a hollow cylinder which glowed a fiery red from within.

"This particular prototype has come a long way from when we started," he explained. "Its function is to generate the energy to power the ship. In the beginning, an inner cylinder was made to spin rapidly, creating the heat by which the ship's steam power is run. It was a sound theory, though we had little luck with it in practice.

"We've had a breakthrough recently, however; and I am perhaps overly pleased to say, my apprentice is mostly to thank for it. Upon the suggestion of magicites, it was her idea to place a fire stone within the cylinder, instead. If this test goes well, her plan is to fix a water stone in a similar cylinder, and cause the two stones to interact with one another. The result should be an infinite supply of steam energy, generated cleanly and for nearly no cost."

Plainly, Barret had given the shortest, simplest explanation his brilliant mind could produce. Zadina really only understood the parts where her own brilliant idea had worked well, how it could save her a small fortune, and that poor, trembling Beiyu now had either a large promotion or fantastic punishment hoovering over her head.

"Well, stop your yammering about it and let's see it, then," she demanded, excited to see her brilliant idea at work. Ignoring the insult, the doctor simply nodded once again and reached into the little cylinder, causing the fire stone within to spin in its fixture, pulsating with red-gold light.

"What sort of stone is it, exactly?" she boredly asked of Beiyu.

"It is citrine, your majesty," the girl answered meekly. "If this test goes well, I hope to use rubies instead; they are far more powerful and beautiful, of course. But it is only the first test, and I would hate to risk such a precious stone on a first try."

Zadina nodded in approval. "I do adore rubies," she commented vaguely. "I should like to see them powering my ships in the near future."

Beiyu took a deep, nervous breath, fiddling with her spectacles. "Yes, your majesty. I hope so, as well. It would be a great honor."

The queen turned to Barret, smiling in her cold way. "Oh, I _do_ like this one. I hope, for her sake, that the test is going well so far."

"It is," Barret agreed. "If it is successful, we ought to see sparking around the outside of the cylinder in a moment or two. Any moment now, really…"

For the first time, the doctor was nervous. Nervous about the outcome of this simple test, and what it would mean for the apprentice he had clearly grown fond of. And so his relief was just as clear when the cylinder began to spark with magic and power, buzzing and crackling and nearly singing to itself. The sparks flew like tiny fireworks of orange and purple flame, leaving little blackened spots on the doctor's white coat. He was forced to quickly drop the thing back where he had found it, but he was grinning with pride and no small amount of joy.

The cowering researchers around the table breathed a sigh of relief in one voice, and cautiously applauded the demonstration. Beiyu was shaking again, overwhelmed with relief that her idea had been successful. Barret looked as though he wanted to embrace her; but he restrained herself, and simply laid his hand proudly on her shoulder.

"It is a monumental day for us all, I should say," he commented. "She has plenty more ideas like this one, too. In fact, I've been thinking to name her head of research on this project. It will be her first time in command of a division, but it would seem she is ready for it, would you not agree, my lady?"

"Yes, indeed," Zadina said with a coy grin. "I knew at once that we could expect great things from this one. I look forward to seeing what her division produces, then. Go with my own personal blessing, Beiyu. Create wonders for me. I am counting mightily on you."

The girl nodded politely, grinning with joy and nearly glowing with pride. How young she was. And how brilliant. This was only her first great contribution to her kingdom, and there was still so much she had to offer. She still had much to learn, of course; but learn, she would. She would spend the rest of her pale, pathetic life beneath the palace, producing wonders for her terrible, beloved queen, content and even pleased with her work, because she had been told to be and knew no other way to live.

Zadina was also pleased by all of this. But the moment of celebration had begun to bore her, and she had yet to come to her original point.

"Well, there it is," she said abruptly to the small crowd. "Now, doctor, if I may have a word with you? Privately?"

Barret immediately shooed the other researchers off with a curt wave of his hand, and they skittered away like moths into another part of the lab. However, his hand remained on Beiyu's shoulder, and she did not move to leave his side.

"Surely, whatever the matter is, my apprentice can be of some help to you as well, my lady," he insisted, when the queen raised a demanding eyebrow at them. Being in a good mood, she shook her head and laughed softly.

"My good doctor," she purred, "you underestimate the severity of the matter. I wish to speak to you, and you alone. Send your clever apprentice off to design other useful things for me, while we have a nice, quiet talk to ourselves."

Barret made the barest of faces, but finally, unhappily nodded dismissal to Beiyu. The girl mumbled a hasty excuse, took a few tools from the long table, and hurried off on her own.

Zadina watched her trot quickly away, then hummed in fascination as she turned to the table. "Charming little creature, really," she mused, picking up and squinting at an object that looked like a wrench. "You are really quite fortunate in having her brilliant brain at your command. You are quite proud of her just now. You can't hide that much from anyone."

The doctor, holding his hands respectfully behind his back, murmured in agreement. "I cannot believe that Bieyu is what you've come all this way to discuss so privately, my lady. Please, tell me what troubles you. I will have it dealt with as best I can, from down here."

She threw the wrench back on the table and faced him squarely. "No, it is not. Halek Barret, as you know well, I am very pleased with the wonders that have come from these labs under your care."

"And fascinated, I have noticed," he agreed. "The sciences have captivated your glorious mind ever since you were a small child. I remember it well. Ah, you would sneak down into the labs from time to time, against the will of your grandfather (stars rest his honor). I daresay, those secret visits where you have gotten some of your better ideas from."

"You would suppose correctly, doctor. There are many things I can do, but to take undeserved credit for great knowledge is not one of them," she said, beginning to pace around him. "What little I saw here as a girl was inspiring, and now look at what we have thanks to my genius – stones infused with raw magic, devices to carry voices across great distances, recordings of music that can be enjoyed at any moment – even through a little box, in any corner of the city. And now, at my behest, you are finally perfecting an invention my grandfather could never have dreamed of. An invention that will redefine our place in this world: ships that sail through the skies, carrying men and arms, to bring our enemies and their wretched cities to the ground."

"All of this is true, my lady," Barret answered simply.

"The magicite project took some time to complete. Years of labor and research and failed project leaders who needed replacement passed, before you had something to show for it."

"This is also true, my lady," Barret answered, a note of sorrow in his voice. "Several of those project leaders, I had grown up with, here in the labs. One or two were apprentices with me. One was an apprentice of my own, himself."

Zadina stopped mid-step and glanced over her shoulder, narrowing her ruby eyes at him. "Dead weight which had to be cast of, of course," she said darkly.

"Yes, of course," the doctor, the sorrow gone, a flat tone in its place. "That which does not produce has no place here. That which fails only holds us back. They knew the risks and the costs. They were easily replaced."

"And how smoothly things progressed after that," Zadina pointed out coldly. "Why, as soon as all that was sorted out, the project came together quickly. And the magicites were the key to everything, were they not? All these wonders are only to thank for our wonderful little stones. And now, they are about to put our ships in the sky – the sky, of all places for a ship to be! It is worth the few losses along the way, don't you think?"

"Yes, of course."

So, his loyalties truly did lie with his queen. Or, at the very least, he had learned well how to contain his emotions, and knew better than to question his orders. Seeing that he had not risen to her bait and remained completely subservient, Zadina felt that she could more than trust this man, after all.

"Oh, but I did promise to brief, and now I am rambling. Let me come to the point, at last," she said, stopping before him and crossing her arms. "You are clearly making progress on these flying ships, but I must know, when will they be ready to leave the city?"

Barret blinked at her before cautiously answering, "That is a difficult date to guess at. We have only begun testing parts and components recently. And while today's test was a complete success and will take us a long way, there is still much to be done, and much to be improved upon. Also, I can't help a nagging suspicion that something important is missing from our designs; it will take time, and trial and error, to find what it is."

"I need a date. A year, at least."

The doctor frowned, thinking it over. "It will be another two or three years to complete the preliminary deigns, at least. Another year to test those models. Another two to revise and test –"

"Too long," Zadina interrupted. "I had honestly hoped for better than that from you, doctor. Make it one year. They _must_ be ready in one year's time."

For the first time, Halek Barret look stunned. Terrified, even. "My lady, with all due respect, there is no way to meet such a deadline. Such a thing has never been asked of us."

"Well, then, this will be a welcome challenge for you," she replied.

"But it is not possible," the doctor insisted, struggling to keep his voice from rising. "It will take more than two years to design, build, and test the parts, let alone putting them together. It simply is not possible."

"Oh, but I am sure you will find a way to _make_ it possible," she said, nearly growling to make her point perfectly clear. To her surprise, instead of cowering politely, the doctor stood straight and tall, and looked her almost defiantly in the eye.

"My lady. With all due respect, you'd may as well have every worker in these labs killed right now. It will save you a great deal of time, because one year from now, your ships will not be ready. I can produce convenient wonders for you, even for your people if you will it; but I am no magician, and cannot alter the reality of this world."

If there was one thing Zadina could not bear, it was when she was denied what was hers by right. Her patience evaporated in a flash, as anger rose red hot from her heart and seethed behind her eyes. As she spun around and jabbed her finger into the doctor's chest, she nearly couldn't see him.

"Rowan of Rin invaded my city and robbed me, armed with a fistful of sticks!" she screamed. "Leif of Del freed the whole of Deltora with a handful of old rocks! This should be simple for you!"

Barret held his hands up in peace but did not back away, even with the queen's sharp, perfectly manicured nail stabbing into his chest. He looked alarmed, and also a bit confused, and no wonder. No doubt he was amazed to be compared to Rowan, the Earth Titan, his queen's loathed hallowed brother; but Lief of Del? Hidden away in the labs all his life, he had never heard the name before.

And so, with perfect honesty, he calmly replied, "I am afraid I am neither. I am Halek Barret, a scientist by trade, armed only with what magic you allow me, my lady. And neither of those men can build a perfect flying ship in only a year."

She felt tempted to strike the man down. She had all the power in the world to do it. She _ought_ to do it, she thought. But then, her usual cool practicality came back over her. The doctor had a point. He was no Titan, and even the ones she had mentioned didn't have the power to rearrange the laws of the universe. Not even she could do that. Others far greater than she could not do that.

With a strangled scream of frustration, she stormed away from him and braced her hands on the table, leaning heavily against it. She felt exhausted, all at once, crushed with disappointment and filled with fear. Time was already so short, and now…

"Surely, there is a reason for all this fuss," Barret said in his calm voice. "If only you would tell me what it is, it could change many things. I still cannot build you even a single ship in one year; but if I knew what they were for and where they will be going, perhaps they could be finished sooner than later."

Still feeling defeated but hopeful at the idea, she sighed deeply.

"Explain."

"If we knew the purpose – to carry soldiers, or cannons, or supplies, and how much – and how far they would have to fly – a day's journey or a month's – and the natives – knights or barbarians or warriors like our own – and other such details. It could amount to a much small vessel, which could be built faster than a larger one. You seem to have a specific purpose in mind, my lady; but if you continue to hide the details from me, I can only be of so much help to you. I may design something that doesn't suit your purposes at all. I implore you, my lady, tell me the reason for all this."

Zadina snorted quietly to herself.

"I have many reasons…"

At last, she stood straight, pulled herself together, and faced the doctor again. "Of course, the only reason you should need is that I told you to do it; however, I suppose you are not wrong. There is intelligence that a, shall we say, foreign nation is preparing an invasion."

The doctor's eyes grew wide. "They plan to invade _us_?" he said huffily.

"They are quite a powerful operation, I am afraid. Far more powerful than I am, at present. I fear we will not stand a chance against their forces. The only course of action I can see is to attack first, with a force they cannot match."

"Ah, the flying ships. Of course, I understand now. Do you suppose we really have so little time?"

"I can't be sure, but it worries me deeply. I want them ready as soon as possible. Their people have already come in and out of the city, gathering intelligence of their own to use against us. Time is of the essence, doctor. If we do not work quickly and cleverly, all we have worked for over these thousands of years will be destroyed overnight."

Barret lowered his head in thought. After a moment, he shook his head.

"The flying ships will not be ready in such a short time," he said yet again. "Not when we've only just begun work on them. But… If you were to provide us with more information on this enemy, perhaps we can find another way to – "

"No!"

Zadina hadn't meant to shout again, but her patience was nearly spent. Clearing her throat painfully, she continued in a tight but calmer tone, "No, doctor. It must be the flying ships. It _must_ be the flying ships. There is no alternative."

Barret stared at her, puzzled. "How is that?" he asked.

Zadina crossed her arms again, not wanting to talk about how she knew all these things, but realizing that she would have to, eventually.

So why not right now, she decided. After all, the researchers never left the labs for any reason. If she told Halek Barret the truth – the whole truth – it would never find its way out.

She chuckled cruelly to herself, daring to smile ruefully at how suddenly her day had changed.

"Oh, I know I promised to be brief, but that was when the plan was a simple matter of giving orders," she mused. "Besides, who am I, to be bound to such promises?"

"Far too great a person, your majesty," Barret supplied.

This restored some of her former good mood, and she even managed to smile. "That I am, doctor. So, you wish to know my reasons, do you? Very well, then. Find yourself a chair and sit down, for we will be here a while. Never let it be said that I am an unmerciful queen."

"Your mercy is legend, my lady," Barret agreed, taking a seat at the table. "Now, please, I'd like to know everything about this enemy. Their weaknesses will be our strengths, and their strengths their downfall."

Zadina slid into a chair across the table and her smile grew into a terrible grin.

"Don't worry, doctor. You will have plenty to work with. That is a promise I can keep."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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This chapter was originally supposed to be split in half, and transition neatly into the next one. Then I started writing it, and realized that an entire chapter from Zadina's POV would be delightfully creepy, and so I rolled with it. The results of this meeting get explored in the final installment. ;D

Fun fact: _beiyu_ means "peace". Thought you might like to know that. :)

I'm no tech wiz, and have no idea how engines work, or how one might convert an airplane engine to run on steam power. Therefore, I've made a lot of stuff up about how airships work, and even that is not explored much as it makes no sense to its own creator. All I know is that the Zebak are very steampunk, and that all their stuff is steam powered, mainly because of magicites being so handy. I have notes in many places about this. Combine a water stone and a fire stone, and you basically get a limitless supply of steam power, but without all the drawbacks of burning coal or fossil fuels.

I have a feeling that this may have had something to do with the _freaking tank_ from _Three Doors 2_ , but that was also an alternate timeline, so I won't quite go there. The bottom line is, magic is wonderful, and bad people should not be allowed to have it. But here we are.

Anyway, back to Star and Co…


	4. Chapter 3: Family

I've been gone for a while, now, but have been working on these in my spare time all the while. So, I figured, why not just save them up for an opportune moment and surprise everyone with a mass-update? 8D

 _Ik'orsa'ta'mul, ersai ik'asti'mul._

(I'm hurting you because I love you.)

Almost certainly, there will be more of this little language I've made up from now on, for reasons that we will get to in a moment. I'm so excited to finally have a use for it! It's been taking up space in my brain (and countless notebooks) for such a long time, but I could never bear to stop working it out. I've worked out the basic structure, a pronoun tree and conjugations, past/present/future tense, several basic verbs, and words for most colors and animals. You know, beginner's Spanish basics.

Which is actually where the whole thing started – Spanish level 1, eighth grade, 2005 – 2006 – but that is a ramble for those who are actually interested.

Anyway, pretty sure there was a plot I was getting to…

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 _Chapter 3: Family_

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It was the end of another productive day at Southside's most popular bakery. Outside, the sun was only just beginning to set, as the bells of Habaharan began to ring in the distance. Star didn't need to count the tolls to know it was time to close the bakery for the day. It was six o'clock in the evening, a time which she had come to know and look forward to in her bones.

As it was, Forley and Ofelia had been busy with their closing duties for a while. Batches of dough had been mixed and left to rise overnight, ready to be shaped and baked early the next morning. But that had been done perhaps an hour or so ago, and now they had set to scrubbing the kitchen clean. Pans, trays, and enormous mixing bowls had been washed and set to dry. The wooden worktables had been scrapped clean, then rubbed with olive oil and lemon juice, then wiped clean once more. The floors had been swept, and then mopped with warm water and more lemon juice. Star could smell the sweet citrus smell wafting into the main room from the kitchen, and smiled at the thought that the whole bakery would soon smell of lemon and warm sunset.

For herself, Star had little left to do. She had swept, and dusted, and rearranged the items in the glass cases by the cash register. Now she was counting the day's money, carefully recording the figures in Ofelia's ledger, while listening without interest to the city's bells striking the hour. If only she had been at some other task, she would have moved to lock the door at once for the day – before any late customers came scrambling to the door, demanding items in a hurry, only to be told there were only leftovers to choose from. Such tardiness bothered Ofelia intensely, and it had come to bother Star and Forley, as well.

However, Star was busy counting the money, and numbers had never been a great strength of hers. If she stopped to do it now, while she was right in the middle of counting the jumble of _daz_ _i_ and _riva_ in her hand, she would lose count and have to begin all over again. Hoping against hope that no one would pop by while she paid fierce attention to her counting and sums, she resolved to lock the door when she had finished.

And so it was that the door opened right up, and set the bell set above it jingling in the stillness. Star nearly jumped at the sound, irritated that she had jinxed herself. But then she looked up, and grinned to see who was coming through the door, armed with a single red rosebud in his hand.

"Hello, Zan," she greeted, all at once glad to forget how much she had counted. "Aren't you supposed to be on your way to the wall?"

"A happy coincidence," he answered. "Another general's squad has some time to make up, and also a bunch of academy cadets have detention time to serve. Between the lot, my squadron was told firmly to have the night off."

Star gasped in happy surprise, and hurried around the counter to meet him. "So you can join us for dinner after all," she suggested. "And perhaps we can go Crusading later. Vivi was so mad that it would have to be put off another night, you know."

"All excellent ideas, dear heart," Zan agreed, pulling her into a hug. "I will just be glad to spend the time with the people I care for the most."

"What about your brothers?" she teased.

"Oh, I see them all the time. I can't get away from them, it seems. Zaneth complained about missing the night's pay, but I don't mind it. Other things have worth of their own."

With that, he presented the rose to Star, to took it with a grateful smile and admired it lovingly.

"Can you believe, the vendor down the street was just going to throw it away?" Zan commented, when he saw how happy it had made her. "He was throwing all his day's leftovers away when I was passing by, and I asked why on earth he would do such a thing. He said that those bunches would wither and die by morning, because they were more than a few days old. It seemed wrong to leave them to rot in the garbage, and he told me to have my pick of them for no charge. And so I picked the nicest one of the bunch. I would have taken them all, but the vendor was right; most of them were in bad shape. This one was nice enough, though, and I thought you might like the sentiment."

To most other young girls in the city, he would have been quite wrong. To be presented a single, dying rosebud, rescued from the garbage, as a token of affection would have been pitiful. It would have been seen as a cheap and lazy gift, and may have even been grounds for dismissal. But to Star, who understood her Zan better than most, it was a wonderful present. It stood for something, and it showed that her man understood her, too.

"I'll take good care of this precious thing," she assured him, taping the invisible shape of the Earth Sigil beneath her clothes. "It will live a long, full life. That's a promise."

He glanced down at where her finger was, and then made a face. Somewhere between delighted and vaguely confused.

"Oh, is this new?" he asked, standing back a bit to look at her frilly, light blue dress. "I don't think I've seen this one before."

Star laughed as she swished her skirt around her knees. "Leah's just on a rampage recently," she answered. "She won't stop making clothes for everyone. She says she's got nothing better to do with all her time, and I suppose we could all use new clothes by now, but… For star's sake, I have more new clothes now than anyone my age in Rin, and Alanis can say the same. It would cause a scandal bigger than the mountain, itself."

"Well, it's their loss. It must be nice, having so many clothes to choose from."

"You shouldn't worry about that, yourself. I think Leah was working on something for you, too."

Zan rolled his violet eyes and groaned. "I thought I told her not to bother. Working the way I do, I haven't the time to wear so many clothes. And if people noticed that a Night Watch officer from Southside was suddenly wearing a different pair of new trousers every day, they would become suspicious."

"I've said the same," Star agreed, slipping back behind the counter and picking up the coins again. "It would be even more suspicious of a commoner who works at the counter in a bakery, no matter how well business is doing. Leah does excellent work, of course. She dresses us all as if we lived in Northside. She could probably make a small fortune selling her skills there, if only she were able to."

Zan just shrugged. "I would say we might have a connection there who could sell these fine clothes on her behalf, but I'm not so sure. Northside commoners have always thought themselves fancier than everyone else. It is because they are so close the port, and the Dragon Lords have always poured more funds into the area; and so they are happier to remain loyal to the queen. The rebellion is only now taking root there, and it's still mostly among slaves, not employers or hired hands. Let alone the lords and ladies who live in the upper tier, close to the palace."

Star looked up at him, concerned about the worry in his voice. "It must start somewhere," she pointed out. "The rebellion started off small here in Southside, and now nearly everyone in the district is on our side. Its spread into East and Westside, too, and now its growing rapidly in those places. Not to mention the slums – why, half the people there had joined the cause in the first week! Northside or no, we are gaining in strength every day."

Zan smiled at all these truths. "You should say that to Zamiel, sometime soon. Northside has been a frustration to him for weeks, when we've had nothing but success until now. I think he's gotten a bit proud of himself lately… So perhaps a little frustration will be good for him. He's no Titan, after all."

"And he certainly isn't a Dragon," Star agreed, "no matter whose blood he shares. But he will be alright, in the end. We don't need Northside to win this fight. The people we have are already more than a match for Central Control. A decent number of their people are already working with us. How many legions have joined us, again?"

"At least four or five, I think. Men, women, and youngsters under various generals from all around the city. That number keeps growing and growing all the time. Another several officers submit their names every couple of days, and so Zane started a ledger for them alone."

"How many books of just people's names have we accumulated so far?" Star asked lightly, setting her coins aside and picking up a new handful.

"Zane has four just for Central Control so far, hidden beneath his kitchen floorboards. Thora has the rest hidden somewhere in Bhlai House. Zamiel won't tell the rest of us how many or where they are, but Zaneth caught him updating them and tattled to me. As far as he knows, there are at least a dozen."

Star gasped out loud, nearly dropping some of her coins on the floor. "Why, that makes at least 18!" she cried. "How many names to a book, then?"

Zan shrugged. "500, by my knowledge. I'm not going to bother fiddling with such large numbers in my head just now. All I know is that it is most of the city by now."

He made a face and leaned over the counter. "Oh, Star, let us leave all that talk for when my brothers are around," he pleaded. "Fate has given me a rare treat. I'd much rather spend this time talking about normal things, as if we weren't trying to start a war."

Star smiled and took his hand, leaning close to him. "It will be nice to forget about that for a few hours, won't it?" she agreed. "At least until night falls, and we can go crusading. If we make good time, we can sneak perhaps two families to safety, and still have time to check in on the slums before heading home."

Zan's whole face lit up at the idea, for the slums had been his personal mission since the night of his birthday, back in the winter. "The violent gangs seem to be on the run, too," he said excitedly. "And I can't say that luring them cleverly into capture hasn't been fun, either. I don't normally wish for people to be thrown into our prisons, but these particular people deserve it. Turning on innocents is to be expected of Central Control, but of people just as poor and desperate? Who have just as little and should know better? Oh, my blood boils at the very thought of it."

Just as Star was opening her mouth to say how much she admired that about him, the door burst open with a clatter, and an unwelcome face came barging into the bakery. It was Tiba Barsa, with her hair done obnoxiously well, and a large emerald around her neck, and a fine gown that trailed along the ground. She still wore the leather bracers of a common slave, but it was likely she had forgotten this. And, as usual, she was scowling in her pompous way, as if she owned something for herself.

Zan straightened and stood casually at attention, because he was too polite to disrespect a lady, even if it was Tiba. Star just tried not to groan too loudly to see the woman again. Since she had been named head of household, she had decided she was too important and busy to do errands herself; she now sent someone else to fetch bread for her house, which Star greatly preferred. She hadn't seen Tiba in months; but it was plain that her rank had risen higher than ever, if she strutted around dressed like this.

"Well, well, well," the woman sneered. "Look who we have here: the runt of the litter, and the waif with no name. Fancy finding the two of you in the same place. Again."

Zan glared at her. "Mahna works here," he pointed out. "Where else should she be just now?"

"I could ask the same of you," she said shortly, crossing her arms. "Why aren't you on your way to watch, Garased? You know how the master rewards tardiness."

"I've been given the night off. As head of the master's house, I thought you knew _all_ his affairs. You were just bragging about it the other day."

Tiba stalked across the room and stuck her nose into his face, looking aggravated that he hadn't flinched. "How dare you take that tone of voice with me," she snapped. "You're a little low on the food chain to be sassing your superiors, don't you think?"

"I would hardly say that," Zan replied coolly. "You may be head of the master's house, but I am now a first class officer. And if I were to complain to the general that one of his house slaves was sassing _me_ , he would hear me first, no matter who you think you are. Imagine the trouble you would find yourself in, then."

Tiba glared at him, and her cold beauty became hideous. "One of these days, Garased," she growled, "the master is going to lose his patience with you. He is going to allow me to hurt you someday, and I will enjoy that _very_ much."

Unimpressed, Zan rolled his eyes. "Why are you here, Tiba?" he demanded. "Surely you can read the sign in the window. In case I'm wrong about that, it says the bakery is closed for the day. There's nothing for you here but trouble."

She grudgingly back out of his face, reaching into her pocket and turning angrily to Star.

"Trouble, indeed," she snorted. "I came to see our precious little Mahna, in fact. She _is_ precious to you, is she not?"

Zan narrowed his eyes at her. "…Obviously," he said flatly, for what use was there in denying it?

Tiba grinned horribly at him, glad to know that he had a weakness. Then she pouted, pretending sadness, and explained, "My poor, ugly little sister hasn't been by the last few days, I'm sure you've noticed. You must be wondering where she is by now."

"Yes," Star agreed plainly. "I have wondered very much. Is she well?"

"I will ask the questions around here," Tiba snapped, slamming a sealed enveloped on the counter. "June has been unwell all week, which I say she deserves. She kept whining that she wanted to send a letter to Mahna, her best and only friend, just to waste her time and say that she would well in time. The master has grown to fancy her, and allowed it. And he decided I ought to deliver it personally."

Zan laughed sharply behind her. "Of course. Because as head of house, their concerns should be your concerns."

Tiba whirled around and pinned him with a look, as if she were offended he would say such a thing. "No, because a loving older sister should want to do her ailing younger sister a kindness," she corrected. "His exact words, in fact. Why, how could I refuse such an errand?"

"So he forced you to do it, because your pride worries him, and your unwillingness amuses him. He doesn't want you getting any more full of yourself than you already are. So, that's a night off for me, and a valuable lesson for you. What a charitable master we have."

Tiba went on glaring at him, humiliated that he had guessed the real story. "I just felt so bad for her," she said insincerely. "When she spoke of Mahna as her only friend, why, it broke my heart. I can't imagine how lonely that must be. Unsightly, stupid, used for the one thing she can do faintly right… It's just so sad. I would do anything to end her misery. _Anything_."

So, that was how things were in Zared Azan's house these days. Tiba enjoyed her place as her master's favorite far too much, and was famously jealous. But in the past year, June, her younger sister, had impressed him with her skills as a dancer. The general hoped that with proper training and special attention, she would one day become famous for it, and make him all the richer in the process. And so she was afforded certain privileges that no other slave would bother dreaming of – such as being allowed out of the house for other people's parties, and sending private messages to friends.

His favor for the two sisters couldn't have been more different, but Tiba saw it as a threat. It was fortunate for June that the two of them thought little of her, just because she wasn't as beautiful as her sister. They had no clue that June was secretly working with the rebellion. They didn't know that she entertained less than she plotted at parties, and that the letter she had sent to Star was almost certainly news in a clever code.

All the same, Tiba was clearly seething with jealousy that the general was giving someone else so much attention. That worried Star, because it meant that June was in danger. It was fortunate, also, that her friend was sturdy and sharp and filled with courage.

Zan knew all of this, as well, and watched with disdain as Tiba bustled her way back to the door without a goodbye to either of them.

"I wouldn't recommend doing anything hasty to the master's cash cow, Tiba," he called after her. "He expects a fortune out of her. If you hurt her, he'll do worse to you, and you know it."

Tiba paused in the doorway and looked coldly over her shoulder at him.

"Lord Azan would never," she said with full, irrational confidence. "I am the most important person in his whole house. He cares for me, you know. He would never do anything to hurt me. You are another matter entirely."

As soon as she had left, Zan hurriedly locked the door behind her. As if locking a dread sickness out of the bakery.

"Whew," sighed a voice from the kitchen. Star turned to see Forley and Ofelia peering out, both looking startled. "Finally, whatever that just was is over," her cousin complained. "I thought she would never leave, or shut up."

"Shut up, never," Ofelia added, shaking her head. "That girl's got a mouth bigger than all the four seas combined."

Star shook her head, too, stuffing the letter into her pocket and scooping the last of the day's money into a cloth bag. "Ofelia, I'm nearly done with this. We can go in a minute or two."

"Well, hurry up, girl," Ofelia insisted with a smile. "Kitchen is clean, tomorrow's bread put up, and the rest of us are ready for some dinner, at last."

"If we have the appetite for it, anyway," Forley remarked, picking up his few things from under the counter. "Tiba always seems to ruin mine."

Zan snorted a laugh. "That will suit Vivi very well. Nothing seems to ruin hers. She will eat all our portions, if she thinks she can get away with it."

Picking up her own things, Star laughed, too. "Then we should get going, before such an idea occurs to her."

2222222222

The Crusaders had gone directly to Bhlai House, where food and family was waiting for them; but Ofelia had parted ways with them and gone instead to Garased House, excited to have Zamiel to herself for an evening. Thrilled that plots and codes and news were so far away for a few hours, the three friends had come home, shared Zan's happy news with everyone, and settled themselves down for a peaceful meal.

The crowd around the third floor's low table had grown into a merry gathering, Star decided. There she was with Forley, Alanis, and Leah, just as they had been from the beginning. There was Zeel, her mother, juggling a full plate and her toddling son, Evan, the newest addition to their family. There was Zan, on Star's left side, as he usually was these days. And there were Vivi and Zizi, who now shared the hidden rooms on the third floor like all the rest of them.

It was an alarming number of people to have hidden in one house. But they were all a family now, and for the most part, they were happy. The only one of them who wasn't seemed to be Vivi, who kept tugging at the buttoned collar of her neat dress.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Leah complained. "I worked hard on that, and you're going to tear the seam straight out."

"Good," Vivi retorted. "It's too tight. And the lace itches. And the button keeps poking me. You tied it too tight in the back, too."

Leah shrugged faintly, used to the girl's fussing by now. "I thought you wanted to live like all house rats do, for a change," she pointed out simply. "All little girls who live in houses wear nice clothes. Besides, didn't you get your old ones out of the garbage?"

"I sure did," Vivi agreed proudly. "All my life. I made do, and I did great, didn't I, Zizi?"

Her little brother, also in nice new clothes Leah had made for him, looked at her with wide red eyes. "I like this better," he said quietly. "It's all—they smell nice and there's not—there's no stains or tears or—yeah. I like Leah's clothes better."

Looking annoyed that Zizi didn't appreciate her hard work in their old life, Vivi pouted angrily and shoveled food vengefully into her mouth.

"You had a nice ribbon in your hair, too," Zeel commented from her chair. "Whatever has happened to it, young lady?"

"I got rid of it," Vivi answered, without apology. "It felt weird, and the bow was big and stupid-looking, so I took it out."

Zeel raised her eyebrow at her. "Where exactly is it now?"

"In the trash. I threw it away because I hate it."

Now Zeel looked a little angry. If there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was seeing useful things going to waste. And where she had come from, small things like hair ribbons and buttons were nice luxuries, not to be taken for granted – and certainly not be to thrown away.

Zeel had probably tied that big, stupid-looking bow in the first place, which did not help.

"I have half a mind to march you downstairs and have you fish it back out at once," she scolded. "Wear it or don't; but if you won't, there are quite a few of us who would be happy to have it."

"You won't want it. It's all buried under nasty food scraps by now, I made sure of it. Even _I_ wouldn't want it."

If only her hands weren't so full, Zeel would have slammed them in anger on the arms of the chair, or at least thrown them in the air. "Why, you sly, cheeky, wicked little devil," she snapped. "I don't know how we thought we could ever make a lady out of you. We ought to have known by that it would be impossible."

Vivi smirked, impressed with herself for being so difficult. Leah was not impressed at all; but the rest of the crowd was amused and laughing.

"I wasn't aware we were trying to make anything of anyone," Forley commented, reaching over the table to tousle Vivi's messy hair. "I, personally, like our little one the way she is, warts and all."

The two children peered at him, not understanding. "I don't have any warts," Vivi protested, sounding hurt. "I'm perfect."

"Yeah," Zizi agreed. "My big sis is – she's pretty."

Forley laughed again and shook his head. "Another turn of phrase, I'm afraid. It only means I like you as you are, even with all your small flaws. I didn't mean to confuse you."

Vivi rolled her eyes. "Then you should have said _that_ , instead. Why can't big people just say what they mean the first time they say it? Honestly!"

"Well, then it wouldn't be as interesting," Alanis supplied dryly. "Star has quite a way with words and would know all about it."

"That, I do," Star agreed. "Which, by the way, is part of your next grammar lesson. I looked ahead in the books Zhena brought for you. I know how turns of phrase upset you, Vivi, but I think you'll like learning about it. At the very least, you'll understand it better, and learn some more of them and what they mean."

Alanis hummed to herself over that. "I remember studying that when I was about that age, myself. I found it boring then, but… Perhaps I'll have to look over this book for myself. Perhaps now I can appreciate it. Now that I think of it, it seems too important not to think of. People do seem to do that all the time."

"Different things mean different things to different people," Zan pointed out. "We have sayings here about grach and chilies like you have of bukshah and honey. The ideas are often very similar, but replaced with objects we understand."

Star looked at him incredulously. "You stole that from me."

He looked back at her, confused. "…I did?"

"The other day, when we were talking about the poetry book I brought you. I said that to you, word for word. Don't you remember?"

Zan made a face, clearly struggling to remember. Seeing that he had forgotten so easily, Star punished him by shoving him as hard as she could.

"You've got plenty of grand ideas. Go make more of your own instead of stealing them from me," she told him firmly."

"I'm sorry."

Star was still faintly peeved with him, but was certain that it would pass quickly. They were lovers now, but that didn't mean they never got on each other's nerves anymore. Still, they were the dearest of friends, and so they never stayed angry with each other for long.

She hardly had a moment to think of this, though. While she had been arguing, Evan had escaped their mother's lap and toddled over to her. She looked over just in time to catch him flopping into her arms, as if he had been expected. Her little brother was only just beginning to speak a few words, but he had taken to walking with incredible speed. It seemed to his sister that there was already restlessness and a great sense of adventure in his heart, but that he wouldn't really share her love of study and knowledge.

In many ways, it was already clear to Star that she and Evan were going to be very different people, with little in common on the surface. He was also the spitting image of their mother, where she still looked exactly like their father. All the same, he was her baby brother, and she was his big sister, and she loved him with a special fierceness.

Surprised but never unhappy to have him in her lap, she snuggled him close and took tiny a spoonful of her dinner to share with him.

"Are you hungry, Evan?" she asked in a sow, clear voice. "Would you like some food to eat?"

The baby cooed excitedly and held his small mouth open wide, understanding at once what _food_ meant.

"Can you say please?"

Of course, this was a large request of such a young child, and all he did was continue to coo loudly. Satisfied, she scooped the spoon into his mouth, and smiled as he enjoyed it. Alanis and Leah watched this, and both grimaced.

"Star, you really shouldn't," Alanis said in a concerned sort of voice. "Your rice is full of chilies, and they're too spicy for a baby. I can't even eat them."

Star shrugged, this time taking a simmered piece of a chili pepper from her bowl. "He seems to like them," she insisted. "What do you think, Evan? Do you want a chili? _Chili_. Can you say _chili_?"

Again, of course he couldn't. But she hoped that he would soon understand what it meant, if she said it often enough. She spooned it into his waiting mouth, to the horror of her three cousins; but instead of screaming in pain, the baby cooed happily again and even clapped his tiny hands, opening his mouth for more right away.

With a sigh of relief, Zeel sank back in her chair. "Excellent. He can share your diner, and I can have mine all to myself for once."

"By all means enjoy your dinner," Thora's deep, pleasant voice came from the stairs. "Eat your fill, and then have some more. There's always plenty in my house."

Indeed, the gracious old woman was right. She appeared carrying a large, steaming bowl in her arms, smiling grandly as she set in the middle of the table. Behind her sulked her sickly brother, Simon, carrying a tray of fruit, cheese, and a full pitcher of pressed juice.

"You indulge us, Thora," Leah commented, helping herself to a cluster of grapes. "You remind me more and more of my grandmother every day."

Thora smiled down at her. "Naturally, my dear. I deal a good trade, and have all the money in the world. What better way to spend it, than on you lot? Besides, no one goes hungry in my home. I won't have it."

Star was beyond thankful for that. Thora had never married, and so had no children of her own, or any grandchildren to spoil as she would have liked to. In the past, she had made up for this by doting on the Garased brothers, and especially on Zan, who had few memories of his parents. As her house had filled with more and more young people, her happiness had only multiplied. There was never a shortage of treats or love for any of them.

Simon had always been another matter. He was almost always sullen and bad tempered, fearful that his sister's house was crawling with Arin, and of what it would mean if they were discovered. He had never liked any of them, and spent most of his time in his chair by the fireplace on the first floor, as far away from them as possible. Lately, however, he had taken to sharing the evening meal with them on the third floor; though he refused to say why he had changed his mind, continued to hoover apart from them, and in fact spoke very little.

Watching him trudge away to sit in a corner, Zizi helpfully snatched a piece of cheese and a slice of sweet melon from the platter and trotted over to the old man, offering them to him with a smile.

"Aren't you – you must be hungry," the boy commented, happy to help in spite of his stammering. Simon stared at him in surprise for a moment, then frowned as he accepted the offering.

"Just keep it down over there, you mangy mutt," he muttered back, though his annoyance was plainly half-hearted. Used to the man's unpleasantness, Zizi just shrugged and wandered back to the table. So while he couldn't see it, the rest of his companions caught Simon smiling the faintest of smiles as he began to eat.

After all, it seemed that no one could be angry with Zizi for any reason. Certainly, he gave people little reason to be angry in the first place. The boy was charming and polite, kindhearted and always eager to help. And now that he lived indoors and had clean clothes and good food to eat and a family who loved him, his confidence had grown by leaps and bounds. He now spoke clearly and more often, no longer embarrassed by his stuttering. It was impossible not to like him, or to not be proud of him.

It was hard to imagine that he could be this way, when he had been raised by pirates and his sassy sister.

Seeing that her brood was settled and happily eating their latest round of food, Thora planted her hands on her hips and nodded in satisfaction. Then she bustled to the fireplace, where a radio sat silently on the mantelpiece. Having more money than most who lived in Southside, she now had a radio on every floor of her home, though she would never be so proud as to boast about it to her neighbors. It was a way for her hidden dears to know what was happening in the city, without having to wait for the rebellion members to bring them news. She felt it only right that they have that comfort, and they all appreciated it.

Thora turned the device on and turned one of the knobs, until the crackling sound of the signal became a clear female voice reciting the day's news. Only then did she finally join them at the table, and finally help herself to a well-earned plate of her wonderful cooking.

"You know," Zan said excitedly, "they're setting up more radio towers over the winter. I've heard there's to be two in every district by this time next year. Even Southside is getting that much. Of course, Zamiel is already hatching some plans on how to use that for the rebellion, but I know little of it yet."

Forley hummed thoughtfully over that. "More towers will mean more stations to choose from. It will mean cause for more programs, and more music, too. I bet a lot of talent is going to be discovered that way, and quickly. If only Zione weren't tangled up in Central Control, she and her violins could have become famous!"

Alanis smiled and gently swatted him over the head. "You're always one step ahead, Forley. When we get home, perhaps you ought to abandon baking and help father and I with our trees, instead. You could change the way we do business overnight."

"And I would be happy to help, my dear, but my own father needs help, too. Working for Ofelia has given me plenty of ideas of my own – her father said a few weeks ago that I've done so well, he would turn the whole business over to me, if he could. I practically run the place these days. Da will be pleased with that, I think. The thought of trusting me with anything used to make him so anxious, but I think he will change his mind when we meet again."

Alanis grinned and sighed deeply, for such hopeful talk of returning home always cheered her and filled her with courage. But Star couldn't help cringing a bit, because the same hopeful talk only served to make her nervous these days. She may have felt at home for the first time in her life, but her cousins did not. They wanted more than anything for the war to be won, so that they could return to Rin. They wanted it so badly that it ached inside them.

And they still assumed that she meant to return with them, though the very idea made her stomach churn and even baffled her from time to time. Rin was so small and uncultured compared to Habaharan. Why would anyone want to go back, when there were no radios, or running water, or even locks on most doors?

She understood their longing, of course. But she knew they wouldn't understand hers, and so she had failed to mention it so far. Still, she made it plain in all she did and said, and she knew they were beginning to worry about her.

As if sensing her unease, Alanis turned to Star with an eager grin. "What about you, Star? You've learned a lot, yourself, these last two years. What will you do with all that knowledge, when we get home?"

Feeling as though a great weight had been dropped on her shoulders, Star tried to smile as naturally as she could. "I've been so busy and all, I suppose I haven't really given it much thought."

"Well you should," Alanis insisted, filling her plate a third time. "The rebellion is gaining strength, and the time for action is growing closer and closer with every day. With luck, we will finally be able to go home, and there will be much to do. Perhaps we will bring some of the wonders we've seen with us, and share them with our people. Oh – we could bring a printing press! That would be an excellent project for you, don't you think?"

"Indeed, it could," Leah agreed. "Norriss spoke of it once, don't you remember? He would be so proud and happy, and of course you would put it to good use right away. You could change our world with such a wonder."

Star admitted to herself, it did seem like an exciting plan, and one she could be quite good at. But it was far from enough to change her mind. Unable to lie, but unwilling to speak the truth in her heart, she went on smiling as best she could, and busied herself with feeding her brother.

Her lack of answer had plainly bothered everyone at the table. In her chair, knowing very well what was going on her daughter's heart, Zeel was watching the four cousins warily, perhaps worried that they would begin arguing. Zizi was fidgeting, and Vivi was tugging at her collar again, unusually nervous this time.

And Zan, who loved Star so much, looked incredibly upset. If Alanis noticed this, she was doing a good job of ignoring him.

"If I were going that way, my first suggestion would be to build proper roads," Thora said suddenly. "A good, solid one to the coast, first off. By our maps, such a feat would take some time; but trade on the coast would perhaps be less difficult. Why, your people could make the journey twice a year, especially if you built way places along the way."

Forley nodded excitedly, glad that she had so expertly changed the subject. "And those way places could lead to new settlements, which would lead to new villages, which would be better for everyone," he continued. "The Travelers would certainly do better business, with more people to trade with. And perhaps Rin will feel less crowded as it grows. I, personally, believe it could grow to be a great city like Habaharan, with time."

The rest of them all agreed and carried the discussion from there, glad to forget Star's awkward silence entirely. All of them but Alanis, who spared her a nervous glance which seemed to say that the discussion was far from over.

Under the table, Star felt Zan take her free hand and squeeze it gently in concern. To make sure she was alright, and ask if she would really leave the city, all in the same simple gesture. She squeezed his hand in return, answering both his questions at once. Looking greatly relieved and still holding her hand tightly, he went back to his dinner and said nothing.

In one way, at least, the discussion was over. Alanis would surely insist on bringing it up another time; but if she knew Star as well as she liked to think, she already knew that hope was lost. She would complain, and yell, and eventually beg, much like her own mother would have, but it would be no use. Star had made up her mind, for good or ill, and there would be no changing it.

For now, though, she had gotten lucky and avoided that conflict for the moment. It could come another day, when there was less food and cheer to be enjoyed, and less work to do. For now, they were just a big, happy family, and that was enough.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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You did not hear Ofelia wrong when she mentioned the _four_ seas. I know there are nine. I've done this on purpose. ;D

I hope you've enjoyed this lovely mass-update. From now on, I expect there to be business as normal, however slow it turns out to be. I have no classes at the moment, and I don't anticipate any deaths in the family, so I'm anticipating a few relatively stress-free months to do with what I please. The rest of this story is outlined, too, so it should be smooth sailing. It's just a matter of stalling at the awkward parts.


	5. Chapter 4: The Wild Man

Hey, y'all want some romance? Some fluff, perhaps? HERE, HAVE ALL THE FLUFF! 8D

*cotton candy rains from the heavens*

I get really irritated when there's clearly supposed to be a kiss, or at least a hug, and it never happens, because that's not in the least bit satisfying. So here I give you a couple of those. You're welcome. ;D

Another Titan story today, too. But it's not in the format you're used to by now….!

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 _Chapter 4: The Wild Man_

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The hot summer seemed to hurry by. So busy and full and oddly normal was her life that one morning, Star woke to a morning that was much cooler than the one before. And the morning after that was even more so. The third morning was suddenly a little warmer, but Star had learned to know better. The fourth morning was cooler again, and Star knew that the seasons were beginning to change.

Habaharan's seasons were not at all like those in the west, where the leaves had begun turning, and harvests were being brought in, and frost was already a usual sight in the early mornings. No, indeed, autumn afternoons in the Zebak lands could still be sweltering, even if their mornings were chilly. There were no trees or vast fields to capture the day's heat, after all; in the desert, the sun was perilously hot while it was up, but left the whole city bitterly cold once it had set.

And so there would be frost, even ice, eventually; but not for another several months. The leaves on the stately trees in the city's squares and parks, and in the secluded fields of Old Rin were likely to not change at all. In fact, the trees in those fields were expected to continue producing fruit without stopping, for Habaharan winters were never cold or long enough to give them pause.

Winters that lasted only a few weeks. Winters where fresh fruit was still readily available. Winters with no snow! It would have stunned her father's people, and frightened them. What was a winter without snow, they might argue? But Star loved it, and in fact greatly preferred it.

It was late into these autumn months that one evening, Star and Forley returned from the bakery as they always did. But instead of joining Forley and the rest of her family for dinner, Star had gone directly to her room and hadn't come out for nearly an hour. When she finally appeared, skipping two steps at a time to the third floor, she looked ready to go to a party.

"What in heaven and earth is this all about?" Alanis gasped. "Are you going somewhere?"

Star grinned at the sensation she had caused. "As a matter of fact, yes. Zan will be by shortly to collect me, so I came to say goodnight before I leave."

Alanis was visibly unhappy about this, but Leah was curious. "You never mentioned anything about tonight, you sneaky thing," she teased. "Where is he taking you this time? Nowhere out of doors, I hope. It's gotten colder, and it would be a shame if you got sick like you did last winter."

Star shrugged. "Well, sort of. I'm just joining him at Garased House for dinner and a little fun. He's invited me to the shower tonight."

Alanis snapped her head up with fury in her handsome face. "Excuse me?" she demanded. "What sort of person does he think you are? Moreover, how on earth have you agreed to such a thing?"

Star scowled back at her and crossed her arms. "No, I mean the _meteor_ shower. There is a meteor shower tonight. We are going to sit on their roof and drink warm tea and watch it together. It will be quite romantic, I think, but certainly not inappropriate. Alanis, I don't know what's gotten into you lately. I thought you were through with being so awful about him."

Than anger faded from Alanis' face, but she looked away into a corner and continued to frown, muttering to herself. Star couldn't tell what she was saying, and couldn't bring herself to care. Looking a bit awkward to be caught between them, Leah cleared her throat and laid a gentle hand on Star's shoulder.

"She is only surprised, I think, as I am," she insisted, though the suggestion was pitiful. "You… You never mentioned having plans tonight. In fact, more and more often we find out that you've made them at all just as you are going out the door, waving goodbye as if it was normal."

Star raised an eyebrow at her. She could tell what Leah was trying to say, but didn't care for her pretense. After all, her man was certainly on his way right now, and she had no time for this. She wished that her famously wise cousin would just come out and say what was on her mind.

Then again, it dawned on her, she hadn't admitted her own thoughts clearly, either. She shook her head a bit to push the idea away, and lifted her chin defiantly.

"Why shouldn't it be normal?" she asked, trying not to sound demanding. "If I'm seeing someone, why shouldn't I be making plans to be with him often? It would be odd if I didn't."

Leah sighed sadly and fiddled with her spectacles, as she always did when she was upset. "I'm only saying, you never tell us what's going on with you anymore, and it's begun to bother us a bit. We used to know all your plans – there was a time not long ago when you told us nearly everything on your mind, and in your heart. Now, it feels as though you were trying to push us out of your life entirely. And that, Star, is not normal. Can't you understand that?"

Feeling suddenly ashamed of herself, Star felt her face growing warm and looked away to try to hid this.

"I'm sorry for that," she said with perfect honesty. "I hadn't realized."

Leah crossed her arms, perhaps not realizing just how like her mother she looked. "Well, you should have," she said sharply. "This city may have changed you, but we are still exactly the same people we have always been. How could you have not _realized_? Don't you know us at all?"

The shame she had felt before evaporated in an instant. "I'm only trying to live my life as I like it," she answered. "I'm sorry if that's such an inconvenience to you. I'm not _trying_ to push you away, there are just things of my own I'd like to do."

Alanis scoffed and turned around to face her again. "Inconvenience for us? Speak for yourself! When we finally leave this city and go home, what do you think will happen with you and Zan? Think of the trouble you'll have caused for yourselves. I've told you time and again what folly this nonsense is, but you never listen to reason anymore."

Star gritted her teeth and clenched her fists, willing herself not to say anything hasty, as Alanis rambled on.

"Not as though you can really _stay_ here, after all. We all know you want to, we can tell that much. But surely you know that you can't. Your place is with us, as it has always been."

"That's not for you to decide," Star snapped, unable to bear her cousin's bossiness any longer. "You've spent the better part of your time here trying to order my life and decide what I can and can't do, and it's never been fair of you."

Which, she knew in her heart, was a terrible exaggeration; but she had lost her temper, and it now seemed much worse in her mind. She was silently glad that Alanis chose not to dwell on this.

"You hardly get to make that decision, either," the older girl argued back. "Alright, fine, I am not your mother and can't really make you do anything – though if I could, I would send you to your room for an eternity, for your own sake. However, you are only 15 years old and in no place to be making such grand choices for yourself. Zeel will have the final say on that, and for certain she won't allow you to do it. You are too precious to her to leave behind so easily, and she knows far better than you."

"Perhaps that is how they do things in Rin," Star growled back, "but Rin is far away. We are in Habaharan now; and the laws of this place say I will be of age in the springtime. Then, I will be able to say for myself, and there will be nothing any of you can do to stop me."

Alanis and Leah gazed at her in terrible shock, unable to believe how boldly she had spoken, or how right she was. Her 16th birthday was only a few months away, now, which would have meant little in Rin, but meant a great deal to the Zebak. And they suddenly saw that when that day came to pass, much of the future they had counted on was going to change.

How quickly their time there had flown by, they must have realized. How had their beloved Star changed from a child into a young woman without them noticing it? How had she changed so much at all?

For now, Alanis' bright eyes were cold with anger and betrayal. "You can't stay here," she repeated bitterly. "You _won't_ be staying here, and that is all. You know it, and may as well get used to the idea. 16 or no, we won't allow it."

To Star, it sounded like a dare. One that she would be happy to test, because Alanis simply wasn't going to have her way. It also sounded uncomfortably familiar, she thought, as she turned and stormed toward the stairs.

"You know," she shot over her shoulder, as spitefully as she could, "you sound more and more like your mother every day."

"Good!" Alanis shouted after her. "Someone around here should!"

Star had to look back at her cousin in alarm, and saw at once that Leah was doing the same. Alanis gazed between them, at the horror on their faces, and seemed to understand what she had said. She looked horrified with herself, and terribly ashamed. How many times had she railed against her own mother for ordering her life against her will, when she just wanted to live her own life in her own way? How many times had she complained of the unfairness in that, or how like a prison it was, or how she longed to be of age so she could escape it all?

Without excusing herself, Alanis jumped to her feet and ran off into her hidden room, slamming the door behind her. Who could know what she was doing or saying behind that door? Did they even want to know? Star decided that she liked not knowing, and in fact did not care a jot.

"All I meant to do was say goodnight," she said quietly to Leah. "So… Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Star," Leah answered, just as quietly. "I'm sorry for what just happened, but… I hope you enjoy yourself tonight."

Star felt moved to smile a bit, at the thought of the lovely evening ahead and how far away her cousins would be from it.

"I don't think that will be too hard."

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Night had fully fallen by the time Zan had arrived for her, and the dark sky was already filled with dazzling stars. The two of them watched the heavens closely as they walked for the first signs of the meteor shower, and were rewarded once or twice. Though the shower wasn't due to begin until later in the night, a few early comets streaked overhead and vanished like wishes in the sky.

It was already a cold night, and the couple had hurried to Garased House as quickly as possible. They had only paused once, as they had passed a blazing lamppost on a street corner. Star had giggled as Zan had hauled her into its light, though she had wondered very much what he was up to.

"I saw Rita and Misha do this once, when I was small," he explained as he held her close and kissed her sweetly. "They were so happy that night… I've always wanted to try it for myself."

"Is it everything you had hoped it would be?" Star asked.

Zan grinned down at her, his eyes glittering in the lamplight. "Everything and more."

Whatever problems she had faced earlier were completely gone from her mind. There was no time or space for them, when the night had started off so nicely.

They had arrived at Garased House to find the place mostly to themselves, which had delighted them even further. Zamiel had already left to visit with his own lady; and Zaneth had gone off to his room for the night, staying up only to say hello to Star. Otherwise, there were only Unos and Dolosus the grach, settling down in the garage with their newly hatched pup. Star had of course insisted on sitting with them for a moment and listening as they sang their young to sleep in their own way, while translating all they said for Zan.

" _Our Fighter Spirit is so small, and yet so strong. She is quite like you in appearance, I think,"_ Unos had commented to her mate, as the little hatchling had finally fallen asleep. Dolosus had seemed to nod in vague agreement as he nuzzled the sleeping pup.

" _It is good to have a mate to myself, at last,"_ the large male had answered. _"They have forced me to have many mates in the past, and now I have many young, though I have never named or even seen any of them. It has made my heart quite sore. What a joy it is, my Only One, to have you and precious Fighter Spirit all to my own, as a mate should. Tell me, am I a good mate to you? Am I a good sire to her?"_

" _I think you are, my Iron Hide,"_ Unos had agreed tenderly. _"Of course, you are the only mate I have ever had, and I suppose I would know no better. But you remind me very much of Wind Heart, who rescued me from this land. He loves his mate and his young, and would do anything in his power to protect them. I have always hoped, if I had a mate of my own, that he might be like that man. I admire him very much, and I admire you, too."_

Star had smiled as she had repeated Unos' words, because Wind Heart was what she had always called Allun. She had never realized before then just how much the creature had looked up to him, even though he was human. And Dolosus looked very pleased by his mate's praise, because he knew all about her adventures by now, and all the people she had known. It was unknown by most people that grach preferred to mate for life if they could; and so she could see more than anyone else that Dolosus was at peace for the first time, and very happy.

Star and Zan had left the garage after patting their beloved grach goodnight. Even though she was sleeping, they had also patted the pup whose parents called her Fighter Spirit, though she was known as Rebel to the humans who kept her.

Then at last, armed with thick blankets and a steaming pot of tea, Star and Zan had made their way to the flat rooftop to watch as the heavens lit up with comets. It had been nearly two hours, and it seemed that the stars would continue to fall from the sky until the dawn came. It seemed also that Zan would never run out of good questions, or that Star would run out of good answers or amazing stories.

"So," Zan asked as another four or five comets flashed across the sky, "what is the word for them again? _Harmahna,_ am I right?"

"There's no exact word for them, actually," Star answered. " _'Harmahna'_ is just the word for the tail of the comet. Literally, it means 'after star', which is only in reference to the light the comet leaves behind as it streaks across the sky and vanishes. They aren't real stars, or _mahna_ , at all; only chunks of cold rock hurtling in the void between stars. When they hit the earth, they are called _brukahsa_ , or 'fallen', because, well, they have fallen."

" _Brukahsa_ ," Zan repeated slowly. "That sounds strangely familiar, somehow."

Star had to laugh at how easily he had noticed it. "That is good. It should sound familiar. Among my father's people, they are just called bukshah."

Zan looked at her in amazement. "Is that the truth? Are they really the same thing?"

"That is what our earliest tales seem to say," she answered, launching into yet another tale without thinking twice. "The legend goes that in his first days in this world, Finlair, the Lord of Earth, created guardians for his place in it. They were like himself in some ways, and they were called _mox'sala_ – ice serpents. But they proved to be unruly, and of course brought bitter cold to his place, where nothing could thrive in the earth as he wished. Finlair would have put an end to them, but the Dragons are creatures of creation, and are unable to destroy anything, even the things they make themselves. And so he cried out to Aldebaran, his mother star for help, and she sent a shower of comets plummeting to his place, creating the valleys all around his mountain. And out of those very comets came divine beasts of the earth, fully formed and armed to combat the ice serpents, who drove them back into the safety of the mountain. We call them bukshah now; but they were formed of comets. _Brukahsa_. The Fallen."

Zan's violet eyes were wide with wonder, at how such a fantastic tale had explained everything so perfectly. "…Is it all true?"

"Well," Star said, tapping the sigil under her clothes as she often did, "papa is unable to lie, and so I assume that it is the full truth. He says he first heard the tale from a black bear in the forest, when I was a little girl. I assume that this, too, is the truth. Anyway, it all makes entirely too much sense."

Once upon a time, Zan would have scoffed and rolled his eyes, annoyed with fancies and tales of ancient things he could never see for himself. He would never have believed it in a thousand years. That had been before he had known Star and the deep magic she had carried with her from Rin, before it had changed his heart and opened his mind. He used to fight against her with science and knowledge of his own as if he were preparing for battle, because such ideas had honestly frightened him. These days, he was curious and wanted to know everything about it.

He believed it all now, or at least he believed most of it. It gave him such hope and courage, and unwillingness to despair or give up. He had learned that much from watching her, and wanted to know all she had to tell him.

"Now, tell me if I've got them all this time," he said, pointing up at the sky and picking out distant stars as best he could. "Finlair is Lord of Earth, and his mother is Aldebaran."

"Yes, that's right, though She won't rise for another few months and isn't visible right now."

"Oh. Right. I knew that," Zan said sheepishly, pointing off in a different direction. "And Sarafeao is Lady of Air, and her father is Sirius."

"Right again, though He won't rise until summer."

Looking slightly annoyed, Zan pointed to the brightest star in the sky. "Well, here's one I do know. There is Polaris, the pole star, father to Jaggra, the Great Serpent and Lady of Water."

Star snuggled up beside him, proud of his progress. "The stars are the tricky part, because they rise and fall with the seasons. Remembering their names and which go with which is half the fight."

Zan smiled down at her and then looked back up, searching for the fourth star. "And then there is Heomiri, Lord of Fire – our Dragon. His mother is Solaris, right?"

"Yes, that's right. You'll never find Her."

"Oh, but I'm sure I will. She must be up there somewhere."

Zan pointed around the night sky without confidence for a moment, until Star took his hand lowered it, giggling to herself. "You won't find Her, because she isn't up there right now. You will see Her in the morning, however."

Groaning, Zan smacked his forehead. "Ah, that's right. I always forget. Solaris is the star closest to our world – the sun."

"Don't worry, it catches everyone off guard. Solaris is so different from all the rest, it takes a while for new learners to remember. Even I forgot from time to time, even when I knew Her story by heart."

Zan looked back down at her with excitement and eagerness. "Star, tell me the story," he said.

Star was flattered, but shook her head. "Oh, I would, but my notebook is back at Bhlai House just now."

Laughing lightly, Zan put his arm around her and drew her close under his own blanket. "But you know the story by heart. You just said so, yourself. Besides, their story is our story – the story of our people – and I'm still learning it for myself. I feel I should know it better by now. And what better time to hear it than under the stars, when Solaris is furthest from us and most needs to be heard of? Star, my love, please tell me the story."

Unable to deny him, Star laughed, too, and tried to recall the story from memory.

"Okay, okay, I'll do my best. So, it begins with Solaris, the mother star, and Heomiri, Her son, Lord of all-consuming Fire, as such tales always do. And She sent Her son down to this world – Her own world, which She gives light and life to. And Heomiri came down to this part of it and made it his own. And as all the Dragons did, he played, and he created, and took all that was in his place into his heart."

"So, wait, I never get to ask this, but, he _made_ everything around here?" Zan asked. "The brightly colored makeloma birds in the north, and the ishken here in the south, and the seams of gems and iron ore in the ground, and everything?"

"That is what the tales would have us know," she agreed. "But Heomiri was different from the other Dragons, because Solaris, his mother, is the source of all life in this world. Also, Fire is the element of passion and valor, and so he felt more for this world than any other Dragon that came here. It was all very important to him, because it was his mother's world. The plants, the animals, the people – all of it. It was already a part of him, and he loved it all dearly, as She did. Does. And he blessed it with beauty and gifts for the land and for the people to enjoy, and he was happy.

"But then the people began fighting amongst themselves over who was the most powerful, who was the strongest, who had the most stuff… You know, as the Arin, and the Travelers, and the Maris all did in turn. As all people do, eventually. Each little tribe tried to lay claim to everything, and they all began to bicker amongst themselves, and terrible wars broke out and they became divided as they always do. And Heomiri was more disappointed than any other Dragon, because of the passion that burned in his heart. And like all the others, he turned away from the fighting and retreated into the barren deserts to be by himself with the beasts he had made with his own hands.

"I suppose," she said with a sigh, "he must have felt as though he had let his mother down. She had sent him into Her own world to make it more beautiful, and things had gotten out of hand under his care. I know he must have, because I have often felt the same of myself and my father. He trained me to do great things with our own people's power, and I disobeyed him in the worst way possible. I let him down, too, and I can't imagine the grief I've caused him."

Zan held her a little closer and kissed her dark hair, trying to comfort her. "So, what did Heomiri do about it?" he asked.

Star roused herself and went back to the story she knew so well. "Long years passed, and a settlement grew right here, where we sit today. It was built upon a sheet of bedrock that lay deep underground, where the ishken are unable to burrow, which made it safe for people to live. And so they called the place _Habaharan_ , the Safe Place, as it is still called to this day (though, of course, we know all about that). In those days, a man called Noma lived among the Habaharan tribe. He was a simple man like most others, and he lived with his young sister, Tazi; he raised her from childhood, since their parents had died when she was small. As such, the brother and sister were quite close. I like to imagine they were very like Vivi and Zizi, in fact."

Zan smiled warmly at the thought. "You see, that's what I like about when you tell tales without your notebooks to help you. You always add insights of your own, without a guide to keep you on track."

Star smiled back at first, but then her face fell. "But things were difficult in those days, as the people were cold and vicious without the light of their Dragon to lead them. People within the separate tribes often turned on their own, and hurt each other without cause. And so it happened that Noma was accused of a crime he did not commit, and was severely beaten for it. He was then cast out of the safety of the settlement to die in the desert; and though she had escaped punishment, Tazi courageously stood up for her brother, and was cast out alongside him.

"So Noma lay half dead in the desert sand and Tazi sat helplessly beside him, certain that their end had come, fearful of the dread creatures in the ground that would surely devour them whole. The brother and sister wept together for their fate; and it came to Noma's mind that there would be countless others after them who would suffer the very same fate. With what he thought was his dying breath, he wished with all his heart that things could be different.

"And, as it was with all the others, Heomiri felt and heard that one of his people had opened his heart and mind for the first time in an age, and came in person to see what had happened. For the sake of their human eyes, he appeared as a fierce wild man, as one like their own. He was tall and dark and very handsome, as all his people are, though rough and cunning from a life spent in the desert sands. He saw Noma dying of his wounds, and his heart was filled with deep pity for him. And he saw Tazi, who was by now a fair young maiden, and his heart was filled with deep affection for her. There was nothing he could do but bring them to shelter and do what he could for them.

"It was clear to Heomiri, however, that Noma was very weak, and that he had lost much of his blood to his injuries. The hope he had awaited for so long was in danger of slipping away forever. And as beautiful Tazi wept for her brother, the Dragon's passionate heart began to break. Deciding that there was nothing else to be done, he knelt beside the dying man and did the unthinkable. He drew his own blood, worked a wonder of deep magic, and gave it to Noma's body to make him well again.

"Though he was still weak, Noma woke to find himself alive, and growing stronger by the moment. Already, the blood of the Dragon was coursing through him and changing him. It was from that moment, truly, that he was the first Titan of all-consuming Fire; it simply happened so quietly, so naturally within him, that he didn't realize this until much later. In any case, Noma and Tazi were amazed and enormously grateful. When their rescuer offered to let them stay with him for a time, they agreed that it was only right, for they now owed him their lives.

"For part of that time, Noma and Tazi knew him only as a sort of hermit, who had left life among people to live in peace. He taught them to survive in the barren sands, even among the ishken, until the dread beasts no longer meant fear to them. They grew to trust him as a companion, and Noma came to call him the dearest of friends. Tazi came to say the same of him, and a great love grew between them. And so, when the Dragon at last revealed his true self to them, they were very shocked but unafraid. The companionship between the three of them was like nothing ever seen in this world before, or anything that has been seen since.

"In that time, Heomiri had decided on a great plan to unite the tribes once and for all. Because he knew Noma and his heart and the might that now silently filled it, the Dragon asked the man to lead their people, to remind them of the passion and valor in their element. Noma was startled and refused at first, because he still thought he was only a simple man, and knew that his nature was gentle, and he feared that none of his people would want to follow someone like him.

"But Heomiri already knew this, and had found a solution. He wanted a simple, gentle soul to lead the people, because they needed reminding that such folk have strength, too. And so from deep below the desert sands, the Dragon called up a great black stone and carved a talisman from it. He breathed his mighty flame upon it, and when it had cooled, it was polished and pure and filled with his deep magic.

"This, he gave to Noma – who was changed even more from the moment he first touched it. The passion and valor and deep magic that had filled him from the beginning was suddenly clear as the day to him. He saw that this was his destiny, and that it was far from impossible, and that it was more than right. He understood, at last, that he was a Titan. The very first Titan of all-consuming Fire.

"Together with his sister and his dear friend, Noma returned to the people who had cast them out, and stood before them with all the power and might of the Sun, Herself. He spoke to them of the passion and valor in their own hearts, so long forgotten to war and hatred, and the people couldn't help but listen to his hopeful words. They were even more amazed when the wild man beside him vanished before their eyes, transforming into a magnificent black Dragon, as radiant as their new talisman.

"Awed by all of this, the people bowed before Noma and made him their king. With his guidance and wisdom, the people remembered who they were, and whose they were, and were united once more. The terrible wars ended, and peace thrived between them. For the first time in an age, all was well with them.

Star paused to rest her voice for a moment, and to marvel at the ending she was about to tell. She recalled the first time she had told this story, Zan had been so upset over the ending that he had stormed away in a fury, refusing to believe that such things were possible. Things were very different now, though.

"Now, as I said," she continued, "Heomiri was not like other Dragons. The passion in his heart compelled him to remain with Noma, and especially with Tazi, who became more precious to him with every day that passed. In time, Noma fell in love with a beautiful woman and took her to be his queen. And so between the brother and sister, there came to be a great number of children filled with the blood of a Dragon. They were said to be taller, stronger, and more beautiful than any man alive, and that they were all as radiant as the sun. These many children grew up to take husbands and wives of their own; and all their many more children grew up to do the same; and all their great many more children grew up to do the same, still. And so it was, only a handful of generations had passed before all Heomiri's people could say that his own mighty blood flowed through their veins.

"The Dragon remained among men, with his Titan and his beloved lady until the end of their long, happy days. The talisman passed to the hands of Noma's eldest granddaughter, who became queen and Titan after him, and continued a line of kings and queens that has carried on to this very day. Seeing that his work was done and that his people were secure in the knowledge of who they were, the Dragon left them and returned to the wild, among the wonders he created, where he loves to be.

"And…"

Star paused once again, not sure how to finish. "This is normally where it can be said that it has gone on this way to this day. We know, of course, that Noma's line has changed a great deal since then. It wouldn't be right to say that Heomiri's people lived happily ever after."

"No," Zan agreed quietly, "I suppose not." He pulled his hand from under his blanket and stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, flexing his strong fingers as though he had never really seen them before. "It still seems impossible to me that we could _all_ be related to a whole Dragon. It's an alarming idea. Yet at the same time, it is so simple. _Too_ simple."

Star shrugged. "I have no choice but to believe it."

Zan sighed and pulled his hand back under his blanket, shivering at the cold. "I just don't know, Star. It is a marvelous notion, and I would like to believe it as you do. But I'm still getting used to all this lairad nonsense, and sometimes don't know what to make of it."

"I wish you wouldn't call it that anymore," Star insisted. "If you believe at least some of it, it can't be nonsense to you. Besides, you know how it hurts me."

"I'm sorry…"

Seeing that he was troubled, Star reached around her blanket and into his for his hand. "Don't worry, Zan. I'll just believe it enough for both of us, until you can believe it for yourself."

"I hope I can, someday."

"I think you will. I think we'll all believe in a lot of things, by the time we're done here."

In another time, Zan would have been exasperated. Today, he smiled and let his head rest against hers.

"You've always had this unshakable belief in this impossible," he said. "I've admired that about you from the day we met. I swear to this day, I've never met a person quite like you, and dare say I never will."

Her heart suddenly filled to overflowing, Star cuddled closer and smiled back at him. "Well, of course not," she answered, also thinking back to the destined afternoon she had first met him, and of how they had both changed since then. "That's because I'm the only _me_ there is."

Zan began to laugh, charmed by the memory of the words they had exchanged those years ago. "Hey, Star, guess what?"

She looked up into his violet eyes and grinned. "What?"

And at once she found that he had cleverly tricked her. There was no great knowledge he had to share with her – just another long, sweet kiss and warm embrace, as another wave of comets fell from the sky above them.

"I love you so much," he whispered in her ear, as if it were a great and thrilling secret meant only for them to know.

"I love you, too," she whispered back, deciding that she had never been happier in her whole life than she was right now. Everything was so peaceful and nice, with the rebellion so far away and the still darkness of the night around her. She felt that she had everything she needed in the world: the brilliant heavens, and the boy she loved with all her heart.

Nothing could spoil this happiness, she thought. Not even thoughts of the distant land she had come from. Not even her family's bickering over what she could and could not do. Not even the knowledge that the dawn would come in time to end this beautiful night, so that another day of freedom fighting could begin.

It was perfect moments such as these that they were all fighting for, she knew, and that was worth everything. For now, she would just savor this one and carry it in her heart in less perfect moments, to remember why she was fighting in the first place.

And so all was well at Garased House, and all within its walls were happy and at peace for the first time in a very long time. All, that was, except for the middle Garased brother, awake and sulking and all alone in his room, while his older and younger brothers carried on with the women they loved. Zaneth would never had _wanted_ to say that he was jealous his brothers and the happiness they had found – the happiness they deserved, after all they had been through.

But…

Something began to grow in him, that night. Something which, like Noma so long before him, was so silent and subtle that he wouldn't notice it until it was far too late to go back. Passing it off as a second's irritation, Zaneth pushed it from his mind and made himself lie down, forcing himself into the still darkness of a dreamless sleep.

 _It will pass in the morning, when I am feeling more myself_ , he thought, as if it were a simple cold that could be slept away. In days to come, he would remember that thought, and how he had underestimated himself. Remember, and regret bitterly.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I recall Lief thinking the same thing about mudlets in _City of the Rats_. It's such a positive note to end on, don't you agree?

The bit about the bukshah and the black bear was something I had been musing about months ago, and is actually part of Alanis' backstory, if you can believe it. Though her mother despises it, Alanis has magical abilities of her own, and at one point had a sort of bond to the local bears. John flipped out, because his kid was sitting right between a mother bear and her cubs like nothing was wrong. Rowan was ecstatic, because his kid sister had found the very bear he had been looking for. Both men silently agreed that Jiller should just never know if it. Ever. And hilarity and fairy tales ensued. Someone remind me to write it all down someday, because its charming in my mind.

Keep in mind, of course, that much of this is hopefully the basis for something totally original one day.

One day…

I know I've alluded many, _many_ times that all the Zebak are supposedly descended from their Dragon, and I hope that their Titan story has explained it properly at last. Like most other epic-awesome-big plot things, I've been sitting on this tale for about two years, now, and having it PUBLISHED is just so exciting to me! I'm stoked to hear what you guys think. ;D

There could be pirates in the next chapter. And a piece of Zirita's story arc. Maybe even June and Tiba dancing around each other, because Tiba is… _up to something_ … But mainly it's C-57 talking about stuff, because I love all 10 of them and miss them. Also, they'll be introducing the next big plot development, so. Like I said, I love them all. XD


	6. Chapter 5: In The Dead of Night

Apparently, Agatha Christie was wont to use the title of this chapter a little too often. I thought that was interesting, and so used it, myself.

It's a lot of filer today, which y'all know by now I hate. But it's got Keids, and also zooms in a bit on Zirita's personal life, so that's fun.

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 _Chapter 5: In The Dead of Night_

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Not terribly long ago, when the Night Watch had first been established, it had been simply assumed that the men and women assigned to the wall would stand guard without complaint, or food or water, in any weather their part of the world could throw at them. Suffocating heat, pouring rain and hail, freezing cold – the previous Dragon Lord hadn't bothered giving it a thought. Those people would be of Central Control, like any other guard; they would accept any assignment they were given and deal with the details on their own, no matter how cruel it was. They would even smile and say thank you for their suffering, if prompted.

Since then, the men and women of the Night Watch had proven to be just as human as anyone else. So many officers fell ill in the first year alone that things had changed quickly. They still weren't allowed to eat on duty, but they were frequently brought water, and even warm tea in the winter months. A heavy winter cloak was now standard issue for the post, and small fires burned in clay pots at every officer's flank.

The Night Watch was still long and tediously boring on most nights. But when Zan thought of it, the station was much easier and far more comfortable than it once was. It was more so than any other station he could think of. At least his one job was to stand on the wall and look toward the horizon. Terrorizing his people to keep them in line was hardly on the list of things demanded of him. It was assumed that he would spend his free time lying around, exhausted from 12-hour shifts and just wanting to be alone.

This was not at all what he did in his free time, of course. Not what most people like him did when they left the wall, not in the slightest. Central Control had trained them too well to be so tired all the time, after all. The Dragon Lords still had much to learn about their precious Night Watch, it seemed.

It had once been demanded that the guards on duty were to stand at attention their whole shift, without speaking or moving in any way. Zan had been drilled on it thousands of times at the academy; if one had so much as twitched slightly, punishment was usually needlessly severe. It had been in preparation for standing at attention in dead silence for 12 hours at a time, three or four nights a week. Only the squadron captain had been allowed to move, to walk among the officers he commanded and make sure they were complying.

This policy had changed slowly over the last few years. First, officers had been allowed to stand at ease, rather than at rigid attention all night; Central doctors had been complaining that people's backs were being strained and hurt from it. Later, they had been allowed to speak with one another during their shifts. Much more recently – just since Zan had joined his brother's squadron – they had finally been allowed to move about freely. Zan wasn't sure what had prompted some of these welcome changes, but was mostly just grateful that he didn't know what the Night Watch had been like when Zamiel had been his age.

Zamiel, who had been one of the first cadets assigned to the Night Watch. He had weathered all of those old, cruel rules that went with it. If Zan thought hard enough, he could remember his eldest brother sometimes being brought home on a stretcher, sick with dehydration or heat rash or frostbite; if not, there was always something wrong with his back. That was about the time Zan's memories began to include Thora, who seemed to always be at their house, treating his brother. He couldn't quite recall the first time he had seen Ofelia, but Zamiel had met her through Thora during that terrible time. Their family had grown in those days, and they had weathered things together.

As he turned from the horizon to warm himself by a fire, Zan wondered if Zamiel would have let either of his younger brothers join the Night Watch if things hadn't changed. Not that there would have been a choice; but he would have done everything in his power to have them placed elsewhere. Standing on the wall was once one of the harshest, most demanding posts a guard could be given, regarded as a punishment or a terrible test of strength and will. Only the hardest and toughest of guards had been able to do even passably on the wall in the first few years.

Today, it was the exact opposite. _Everyone_ wanted to be on Night Watch duty. There was a waiting list a mile long of people wanting to join. Many joked that it was such an easy post, a two-year-old could handle it. Others joked that the guards could be replaced by grach, and you'd never tell the difference. Academy cadets were frequently assigned to the wall to serve detention, the hard lesson coming from 12 hours of mind numbing boredom, rather than impossible standards.

In any case, whenever the wall had been assigned as a detention sentence, the cadets took the lesson to heart and avoided having to serve it again. Whether in fear of beatings or boredom, no cadet had ever been interested in returning. At least, not until they graduated and were assigned to patrol the crowded city streets in the heat of the sun.

Zan looked up toward the sound of some his team laughing nearby. A year or two ago, he would have rolled his eyes at them for joking around while on duty. Now, he couldn't help smiling faintly to see them so at ease. Zaneth, Zane, and Zione were clustered around Zak, playfully teasing him over his new spectacles, and how expensive they must have been. Zak just tossed his head proudly and pushed the lenses higher on his nose, with an air of importance.

"They're the newest, latest ones," he was informing his friends. "Rita told me a few weeks ago about this new kind of lens they've been cooking up at the palace, and that they need a few good lab rats to test them on. A few release waivers later, and two pairs showed up on my doorstep just this morning – free of charge, too! Only a hundred or so are to be issued, so if you plan on your eyes going early, you should really see about signing up."

Zione shrugged, standing on her toes to try and see them better. "They look the same as your old ones," she complained, squinting doubtfully at him. "What's so special about this pair?"

"Something to do with the shape of the lens, I think," Zak answered, taking his spectacles off and peering at them for himself. "The glass is thin at the top, but wide at the bottom, so you don't need a separate pair for reading. Of course it's against the instructions that came with the package, but I'm thinking to give the other pair to Leah. I've been handing her my spares for nearly two years, anyway. Oh, I wish you had seen her face when she tried mine on for the first time! Her jaw nearly came off her face. She squeaked like a mouse and said she had never seen so clearly in her life before."

Zane rubbed his chin in thought. "But Leah's always worn them, ever since she was a child. She came here wearing them, and had packed a spare set of her own in the few things she brought. So clearly they know how to make them in Maris."

Zak shrugged and put his spectacles back in place. "Apparently, not as well as we make them here. I tried on both pairs she brought and shuddered to think of how she got by for so many years that way. They help a bit, I suppose, but… The quality of the lenses is terrible. I had trouble picking out shadows and certain colors, and people across a room were still very blurry. If Forley looks so much like his father, it's a wonder Leah was ever able to tell them apart."

Zione barked a laugh and shook her head. "Leah, Leah, Leah. Always with you, it's Leah. She is all you talk about these days."

The rest of them also laughed at what the short little woman was plainly trying to say, and Zak laughed along. "It's just nice to have a friend with that in common," he answered plainly. "She knows what it's like to be mocked and called mean names for a condition you can't help. Also, she was called 'four-eyes' a lot, just as I was. I mean, really – even the Arin call us that? Not exactly creative, then."

Zane chuckled and nudged the younger man with a devilish smirk. "I do believe you're in love, Zak," he teased. "You sound just like Zamiel when he first found Ofelia."

"And Rita when she found Misha," Zione added.

"And Zan, too, now that he's got Star," Zaneth put in, glancing over his shoulder and blushing a bit to see his brother watching and listening. He waved nervously in apology and muttered, "No offense, of course."

Zan smirked and waved back. "None taken."

Unfazed, Zak puffed out his chest and crossed his arms firmly. "Alright, so what of it?" he insisted. "I've said nothing of it, and plan to just leave it at that. Anyway, it's nice to have someone outside of you lot I get on with so well. It's not every day I get to make a new friend."

The rest of them shrugged at this, but Zan felt that he had a small piece of wisdom to share with his friend.

"Don't go babbling about it where Zamiel can hear you," he advised. "You know how he loves solving people's little problems. He solved mine, and now Star is more and more sure every day that she will stay here when things are settled down. Not that she had really pinned her hopes on a return trip by then, but I'm sure I helped her decide. To be honest, I don't know how I feel about that. This city will be turned upside down, no matter what happens; and she will be trapped here in the middle of it all."

Even though he hadn't been speaking to Zane, the man raised his eyebrow and said, "That certainly is a concern. Have you told her of this?"

Zan returned his gaze to the fire and rubbed his hands over it. "…No…"

"Zan, you really should tell her. It's a reasonable thought, one she plainly hasn't thought of for herself. Besides, if you are so worried about her, she ought to know. Nothing good comes from hiding your true thoughts from the people you love."

Zan shook his head. "It would do nothing to change her mind. She can be so contrary sometimes; if I told her this, she might decide to stay just to prove me wrong. You know how she hates people fussing over her."

"He has you there," Zak agreed. "And it's not so bad, I suppose. Not as though he's hiding the poor state of the family's finances, after all."

Zane made a face, and looked almost ready to put his fist though Zak's nose. "That was only once, and it was an emergency," he snapped. "If I hadn't spent our food money on a doctor, my wife _and_ our son would have died. Of course she was furious at first, but she had just given birth and was ill, and wasn't in her right mind. She's since forgiven me; she even thanked me for saving her life, and still feels awful sometimes for scolding me over it and putting a proper thank you off for so long. She understands now… But you are right, I shouldn't have hidden that from her."

Turning back to Zan, he concluded, "Do you see what I mean? It does absolutely no good hiding the important things from your loved ones. They will find out eventually, and then punish you in clever ways for deceiving them. And with a girl like Star on your arm, is that really a risk you want to take?"

Zan glanced back at him, thinking deeply about this. Though he was only deputy captain, Zane Ferren was the eldest of their squadron, the only other member to be married, and the only one with children of his own. His marriage had been arranged by their master, as it usually was, but he had made a family of it. He loved his wife and all their little ones with all his heart. He had made more than his fair share of difficult decisions to keep them safe, because that was what husbands and fathers ought to do. Mostly, he made the right decisions; once in a while, though…

Well, legend had it that even Dragons are not completely perfect, and make mistakes from time to time.

Zane had a wealth of wisdom of his own to share. Zan wished he weren't too proud to accept the man's counsel, but he pushed it aside for another time. Star was still learning some of the city's customs, and was still unlearning everything she knew from a lifetime among the Arin. Things he took for granted often took her by terrible surprise. The less she knew of certain things, the less troubled and unsure she would be, he thought.

He was sure, as Zane had warned, that it would come back to bite him someday. But he simply wasn't sure how else to protect the girl he loved so much. For all her courage and fierceness, she was still innocent and naïve and vulnerable. There were things she _did_ need to be protected from, no matter how well she could take care of herself. Things she wouldn't understand at first, or think to expect. And he couldn't bear to let her get swept up in a tide like that.

And so, for the time being, the best way to protect her was to keep some knowledge to himself. There were many things he hoped to tell her one day, perhaps once they reached all those small bridges and needed to cross them at last. He knew his brothers wouldn't agree or understand; but it felt too certain to him to reason against.

He had never been so afraid for anyone or anything until Star had all but exploded into his life. Now, he found that he was constantly terrified that something would happen to her.

Zan considered all of this in silence, then pushed it all aside in annoyance, far more interested in what Zione was saying.

"And what's this face you make?" the short little woman was asking Zaneth. "Is all this all this fluffy talk too difficult for big, strong, manly men like you? Why is your face so red all at once?"

Indeed, Zaneth was blushing deeply, and had been growing redder by the second for a minute or two. He mumbled something and looked down at the stone beneath his feet, rubbing his arm and looking very awkward.

Even more so than usual, Zan thought to himself.

Guessing the reason at once, Zak punched his arm and laughed, "So, I'm not the only sap on this wall with a pretty girl on his mind. Come on, man, tell us all about her! Who is she, what's he name? How did it happen? Does she know?"

"Well," Zaneth answered slowly, "since you've guessed it, there is someone. A nice girl, I think, but misunderstood by most people."

Zane smiled gently, looking proud of him. "Then perhaps you are just the young man to prove most people wrong. Is she anyone we know?"

"I should think so," Zaneth agreed, with more confidence.

"Is she with us?"

"Oh… No. I mean, I hope she will be, one day. I'm not sure if she knows about us yet."

The rest of them were incredibly confused by this, for who among the city's common folk hadn't heard of the rebellion? Even those who hadn't joined were at least aware of it. Suddenly having a suspicion, Zan looked up and raised an eyebrow at his brother.

"You still haven't answered the first couple of questions about this girl," he pointed out. "She _does_ have a name, doesn't she?"

Zaneth shrugged. "Well, yes, of course she does. It's… Well, it's Tiba. Tiba Barsa."

Zan groaned loudly and shook his head in annoyance. He usually liked being right about things, but in this instance he wished that he could have been wrong. Zane was frowning in confusion. Zione was hissing in disgust at the mere mention the woman's name. Zak was staring at Zaneth as if he had lost his mind.

"You can't be serious," Zak demanded. "You said she was misunderstood, not vile and rotten to the core. It's one thing to be brilliant, or quiet, or less than dazzlingly radiant. It's another thing entirely to be completely evil."

"I don't think she is," Zaneth insisted, crossing his arms defensively. "Have you seen where she lives? Who commands her life? All that she's lost? Of course she's been twisted by it a bit; but if only things were different, I'm certain she would be, too. Surely she is just as lovely inside as out, once you know her."

"Where did you get an idea like that?" Zan asked, a little more sharply than he had meant to. "You can put it out of your head right now. June has plenty of awful stories about her awful sister, and many of them are from before they served our master. She can't remember anything good or _lovely_ or even pleasant about Tiba. In fact, she says their own mother is worried something's very wrong with her."

"I have to agree with Zan," Zane added. "Lamina and I have talked about it before. She believes the girl is sick in her mind. She's believed it ever since she was a small child, but at least then she was able to keep an eye on her and punish her when she felt it was needed. Now, of course, there's nothing she can do but try to keep out of her way, the poor woman."

"Wait a moment," Zan interrupted, "who is Lamina?"

"Lamina Barsa," Zane answered, puzzled. "June and Tiba's mother. You didn't know her name?"

"No, I didn't. June would never call her own mother by name unless there was a good reason. Huh. Two years of this, and it never came up once…"

Zane huffed back to his point. "Well, as you can imagine, Lamina is at her wit's end and positively terrified of her own daughter. She always has been, if she's honest, and not only of what Tiba could do to her. She's never been particularly fond of June, you know. The girl has always been frightfully jealous, and so a sibling was hardly welcome. You've seen the kind of danger June is in."

Zan nodded and swallowed hard. "Yes, I've seen it. She's always gone looking for reasons to be cruel to June. More recently, I'm sure she's been searching for an excuse to kill her."

His brother looked horrified that he would say such a thing, but said nothing.

Zione gasped in alarm. "This is a serious thing to say of anyone," she growled. "Do you think—"

"No, I don't think she will succeed any time soon," Zan told her firmly. "June is a god girl, a hard worker and a model slave who follows the rules and does as she is told without question. The good general would never suspect her of treachery of any kind. And he is still counting on her fame in the future; I'm sure he would destroy the person who damaged her. Also, as I understand it, Tiba complains enough for ten slaves and makes unreasonable demands of her own master, and his patience is wearing thin."

Zak's eyes were wide with hope behind his new spectacles. "Do you think he'll replace her as head of house?"

"No, I don't think that will happen, either. Her bad attitude annoys him now, but it was what he liked so much about her in the first place. Still, she frequently makes false accusations of others in the house out of spite, just to prove that she has the power to do so. The general does love to make sport of innocent people, but he hasn't the time for it 20 times a day, and especially not for the whims of someone he owns, who should be just as busy as he is."

"Alright, you lot, that's enough complaining for now," Zane told them, holding his hands out in peace as he turned back to Zaneth. "As you can see, the point is that Tiba Barsa is not the right girl for you. Or anyone, for that matter. You are noble for trying to see past her flaws, but there is nothing there to be seen but more flaws."

"She's just one big walking flaw," Zak added needlessly. "Trust us, man, let it go and move on. You'll find nothing there but terrible disappointment."

Zaneth was silent, staring at his boots again. And it bothered Zan that he was refusing to promise anything in particular. He was being so defiant, all at once, and it wasn't like him at all.

Just as Zan was wondering what had gotten into his older brother, his eldest brother came striding toward them with the rest of squadron C-57 in tow. They were clearly unaware of what had just happened, and Zan couldn't believe how relieved he was for it. As it was, they were all taking excitedly amongst themselves, and Zamiel was grinning his broad, handsome grin. The one he always wore when he was in the middle of being brilliant and knew it.

"Gather 'round, everyone," their captain called to them. "Come in close, and circle around Zirita and I. She has an announcement to make, but it is of utmost secrecy. It's not to be overheard, or announced twice."

"What's going on with you, girl?" Zhena asked when they were in a tight circle. "Are you hurt? Has something happened?"

Zirita shook her head with a smile, then spoke in a low voice. "Oh, far from it. Everything is fine, but I have some exciting news from inside the palace. Korus let it slip over dinner last night, thinking I might be interested, though I don't suppose he knew how interested I would be."

The whole squad murmured over this, never unhappy to hear a little news. Zirita's surprise, arranged marriage had started off poorly and had upset them all. None of them had been surprised that she had continued seeing Misha, her true love, behind her husband's back. Then one day, as the two of them were sneaking into her house through the back door, they had run right into Korus – sneaking into the very same door with his own true love, Lola, for the very same reason.

But there had been no anger or threats that day. The husband and wife were not unfriendly, but they didn't suit each other, and in fact were rarely at home at the same time. Neither was shocked or hurt or even terribly bothered that afternoon at the backdoor. The two couples had gone on to laugh over it, share a meal, and agree to carry on that way as if it were normal, because things were decidedly more pleasant that way. And now they made a point to have dinner together at least once a week.

Korus was unaware that his wife was one of the rebellion's founders, and Zirita intended to keep it that way. He worked in the patent office at the palace, far too close to the queen for comfort; but he was also mild mannered and asked very few questions, which made it easy for her to hide from him. However, over dinner every week, he did love to talk about all the marvels being produced in the laboratories below the palace, especially the ones he had signed papers for. The radio had been his favorite recently. He was also thrilled about the new lenses they were working on, which was how Zirita had known to tell Zak in the first place.

Korus knew a great number of things before anyone else in the city did. And so, in a way, Zirita was almost glad that she had been forced to marry him. Knowledge like this was one of the most valuable weapons the rebellion had, and she was its keeper.

Zirita was brimming with excitement over what she had heard this time, and had to take a moment to compose herself before whispering, "There's to be a ball! The queen is planning a ball, _inside_ the palace!"

The whole squadron gasped together, the same idea beginning to take shape in all their minds. A ball could mean a way into the palace without looking suspicious. A way to get close to the queen and her court. A way to infiltrate.

A way to start their war.

"Balls are grand affairs, and usually means to some end of the queen's," Zack Rivan commented after a moment. "Surely she is throwing this party to distract her courtiers from something."

"No, no, that's just the thing," Zirita answered, shaking her head. "From what Korus knows, the ball is in honor of Central Control, and there are to be as many officers in attendance as possible. He hasn't heard why it's being done, but it is happening. He was asked to help start a budget for it today."

"When will it be?" asked Zara.

"Late spring, he thinks. He hasn't seen a date yet, but he can already tell that it will take several months to prepare for."

Zamiel looked so pleased, he could have jumped out of his own skin. "Everyone, listen," he said to them, rubbing his hands. "This is it. It's perfect! I couldn't have planned it better to ask for! We all see what we must do, do we not?"

Zack Rivan nodded and answered for them all: "Be in that ballroom, on that night, awaiting a signal or a code or something of the kind from you."

Without pausing to agree with him, Zamiel went on, "We have to be careful about this. Who we tell next, what plans we put in place – everything. If this is to be our chance, it is our only chance. We will either succeed and win the day, or we will fail and be crushed immediately. We _must_ do this right the first time, or else all is lost. Not only for ourselves or our people, but for our friends, as well."

All ten of their heads bowed in thought over this, as they all thought of the Arin they had hidden for so long, and how they were depending on the rebellion for their freedom, too. If this plan fell apart and all was lost, what in heaven, earth, or all the four seas would happen to them?

 _What would happen to Star?_ Zan couldn't help the thought as it pierced his mind like a dart, and his stomach lurched at it.

The opportunity they had been waiting for had finally presented itself, it seemed. Zamiel was clearly already busy making plans, and plans within each one. The day was far off, but time was sure to hurry by in its busy way. So much would happen between then and now. And so much was counting on it all. And so much could go wrong.

At the same time as he was excited and couldn't wait, Zan hoped that the day might never come.

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Far above the city atop the famous wall, little of consequence was happening. In the sewers below the city, it was another matter. Without day or night or any real concept of time, the people who lived there were still carrying on. People would continue buying selling, sharing news, and doing whatever else suited them until they grew tired and decided to rest. It was a never-ending flow of activity and business and noise with tides of its own, but no real ending.

Keids had always liked this about the strange refuge of the sewers. It reminded him strongly of the sea he had loved as a young man, which he had been forced to leave behind for a new calling. He had decided long ago that the likeness was a comfort, and that he could be content with it while he bided his time. He often walked among the thronging crowds whenever he knew it was late in the night, while wondering what the people he knew in the city above were doing.

He also enjoyed walking among these people as just another face in a large crowd, without being recognized or noticed. It tickled him to be one of the most powerful and infamous people in Habaharan's recent history, and yet no one around him would guess it from glancing at him or brushing past him in a hurry.

The late hours of the night were also an easy time to look in on some of the newcomers to the sewers. Ever since they had come pouring in from above, rescued and led by the Crusaders, he had promised his Vivi that he would do his best to look after them. Keids had found it best to do so quietly, though, without revealing who he really was. No one wanted the help of a pirate, it seemed. The help of a regular old wealthy, handsome, eccentric old-timer was always accepted with much more enthusiasm.

Coming upon a ferryman who looked rather bored, Keids decided to liven up the man's night with a crossing. He caught the man's eye and nodded politely as he approached.

"I be crossin' 'ere, if it be pleasin' to ye," he said, digging in the pocket of his overcoat for a few coins.

The man's face lit up as he led Keids onto the wooden raft. "It would be very pleasing to me, thank you," he answered as he untied the craft and shoved off. "It's been hours since anyone wanted a ride. I was beginning to think I wouldn't make any money today."

Keids peered at the man for a moment. "Ye be new 'round 'ere, aye? Ain't seen yer face, methinks."

The man grinned at him. "Just came from the city a month or two ago. Lost my job, couldn't pay rent or taxes, marked for the fields – it's always the same story."

Keids nodded in understanding. "Den de Crusaders come, aye?"

"And not a moment too soon," the man agreed. "I have no idea how they do it, but I won't ask too much about it. I'm just glad they came at all. And I'm glad the usual ferryman was willing to take me on, too. He's a bit of a sour fellow, but he's also old and tired and likes having the night hours off to sleep properly. It's not exactly a grand living, but I do like having one to make again."

Then he made a face and shook his head. "Oh, but you're not paying to hear my life's story. I'll spare you that. And, um, if you see my boss another time, I'd be grateful if you didn't mention what I said about him."

Keids laughed heartily and clapped the man's shoulder. "Dat I won't, young'un, ye can bet on it. Likes dis 'un better'n dat ol' geezer, I do, anyways."

The man smiled gratefully and continued rowing in silence. Keids left him to that and gazed down into the murky water. There were no foul creatures lurking beneath it as far as he had ever known; but it was several unpleasant shades of gray and sickly green, and it reeked more than he cared to acknowledge. A fall into that water would not be the most dangerous mess he had gotten into, but he would prefer many of his misadventures to it.

He was thinking slowly of the boldness in the sewer's ferrymen, who carried people across this horrid water all day, and what a convenience it was that someone was willing to risk a tumble into it. Then, in his quietness, he thought he felt something. Heard something. The sluggish water seemed to stir on its own, as if the barest of breezes had drifted over it. It felt as though someone – or something – had called his name. His true name.

 _Telu'Barr, Telu'Barr, orsa'da – Shark's Tail, Shark's Tail, beware!_

Keids frowned at his murky reflection, wondering very much at the words suddenly whispering in his mind. There was no voice to go with them, and yet there was, somehow. A voiceless voice he felt was strangely familiar. As if he knew it well, but hadn't heard it in a long time. And it was ethereal, powerful, beyond understanding.

He frowned harder, stared deeper into the water, and listened.

 _A grave danger is near at hand. It has entered this place and refuses to leave. It is on the move. Its time is near at hand. Use what has been given you. Make preparations, and make haste. You will know what to do; it will move you, flow though you as the tide._

And then the voiceless voice was gone, as suddenly and quietly as it had appeared. It had come and gone in a flash, in the space of a second, so that Keids was left blinking and wondering if he had heard anything at all. He found himself gazing down at his reflection again, though it felt as though he had been taken on a journey and shown many things. And yet nothing at all. And now he was back on the ferry, as though nothing had happened.

The ferryman yawned and cleared his throat in apology for being rude; but if he noticed his passenger's change in mood, he didn't ask about it. Keids preferred this. Whoever the voiceless voice belonged to, it had given him a gift which he was too sharp to pass off as a trick of the light or mere whimsy. It had come with a warning. A hint as to what he should do next. It had spoken frankly of preparations, as though he was supposed to know what he was preparing for and how best to do it – though he had no idea of any of it.

But the voiceless voice had also spoken of the tide moving him, and this brought him comfort as the ferry finally came to rest. Whatever he was supposed to be preparing for in so much haste, he would know in his heart what to do when the moments came. It seemed that so much had changed in that short crossing; like his eyes had been opening to something he still couldn't see. Sensing he now had much to think about and much more to do, Keids stepped off the ferry and let his sharp senses decide which way he would go next.

"Is there anywhere in particular you mean to go?" the ferryman asked when Keids hesitated. Supposing he looked like a lost, confused old man, he shook his head with a grin.

"Don't ye worry 'bout lil' ol' me, young'un," he said firmly. "Jus' gots a choice to make is all. An' ol' Keids always did like to say, him heart be the best compass he gots."

Shrugging, the ferryman began digging in his own pocket for the change he owed; but Keids made up his mind faster, and strode off with a wave of his hand.

"Keep dem ol' _dazi_ an' _riva_ ," he called over his shoulder. "Gots plenty more where dat came from, I do. Keep 'em lil' ol' coins, save 'em up, grow yerself a fortune! Stars speed to ye, lad."

The ferryman didn't answer, but Keids could feel his eyes following him in puzzlement and wonder. No doubt it had been a long time since he'd had anything extra to save – let alone since he'd been told to keep something for himself. It felt right to let him keep the change.

In fact, it felt _very_ right. Keids slowed a bit to marvel at how in doing the right thing, he had… Well, done the right thing. The sensation that the young ferryman was supposed to have those coins was overwhelming. It came over him like the tide, just as he had been told it would.

The clever king of Habaharan's pirates had to grin as he realized this. He still had no idea what lay ahead, but he could see now that something unseen and powerful was guiding him. And so he slid a knowing wink toward the wretched water he had just crossed and continued on his way, looking forward to the next time the tide would move him.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I'm not happy with this ending. It seems too abrupt to me, no matter how I try to smooth it out. Ending with a thick paragraph always ticks me off just a little bit – its never felt suspenseful or final enough to transition into new material, especially when the action doesn't follow immediately.

So, out of curiosity, I'd like to know how you guys feel about that in your own writing. Does it bother you, too? If so, how do you deal with it? Or does it not bother you so much? I'd really love everyone's input. Leave it in your review – because _of course_ you're going to leave one anyway – or send me a PM if you've got a lot to say. I'm easy that way.

BUT LEAVE A REVIEW, GUYS.

(See opening rant from chapter 2 of _Moonstone Fragment_ , please.)

Anyway.


	7. Chapter 6: Trouble

Because it seemed like too long since I've had a chapter with a title like…

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 _Chapter 6: Trouble_

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There was, indeed, to be a ball. As the winter carried on, much of the city was cheered by an official announcement, and then frequent news on the preparations. All of this exciting information came into every home in Habaharan over the radio, and seemed to have become the highlight of everyone's day. News from within the palace had always been so rare, and usually only meant something terrible. It seemed that this was changing, and that was exciting, too.

Zan's birthday had just passed again, and everyone was marveling at all that had happened in the time since that fateful night. It wasn't terribly long after a much smaller celebration that the Crusaders gathered with their hidden friends at Bhlai House to share a meal and listen to the radio, as they often did. Rumor had it that an interview with the queen, herself, was to be broadcast that evening, and none of them wanted to miss such a thing.

Only two of their group had ever seen the Titan of Fire before. Neither of them wanted to revisit the experience. All the same, they were just as curious as the rest, and couldn't resist a chance to her the voice of their queen again.

"It will be interesting, at least, to see if she sounds the same over the radio as she does in person," Zan had commented. "The sound is always distorted over the frequency, and of course it's never the same as seeing the face to go with the voice."

Star peered at her love with concern on her face. Now that she thought of it, he had never really mentioned his one fateful meeting with the queen. Neither had her mother, for that matter. Even though the foul woman couldn't see or hear them from where she was, they were plainly both a little anxious over the broadcast.

Star thought suddenly of Porii, the elderly librarian, who was so suspicious of new wonders and convinced that the queen was using the radios around the city to spy on its people. She had always passed the old woman's fretting off as typical and not to be taken too seriously. All elders complained about the fancies of young people, it seemed, with no reason but that they were new and strange to them.

Now, Star wondered if Porii was right to be concerned. Zeel certainly seemed to be, glaring at the radio on the mantelpiece as the evening news hummed out of it. As if she might suspect it of treachery.

"Mum, are you alright?" Star asked. Her mother looked at her in surprise, then smiled gently and shook her head.

"It's nothing, my dear," she insisted. "I'm fine as always. I'm simply trying to decide whether I'm looking forward to this interview or not. It's been such a long time… Not long enough, perhaps."

Star couldn't help letting her thoughts come tumbling out of her mind. She nearly couldn't control herself as she blurted out, "Some people believe the radios are being used to spy on us. That the frequencies can take sound in, as well as send it out. Do you think that's true?"

She hadn't been speaking to anyone specifically, just hoping for someone to say something reassuring. Most of them looked alarmed at the idea; but Zan and Leah were both shaking their heads and shrugging.

"Not possible," Leah said right away. "Not the way these frequencies are tuned. I've read all about it, so you can trust me on this. The very idea occurred to me months ago when I began to study it; so naturally, I took every radio in the house apart, examined all the components, and put them all back together again. Nothing about them is designed to capture sound, just to transmit it. Radios are quite safe, I promise."

Zan looked at her in amazement. "That was everything I was just about to say," he said incredulously. "Except for when you took all the radios apart, which is only slightly insane."

Leah stood straight and tall, squaring her shoulders and puffing out her chest, looking incredibly proud of herself. "Please, thank you, and you're welcome."

"And you put them all back together perfectly?" Zan went on, snatching the radio from the mantle and turning it on every side, looking for a flaw, but finding nothing. "How in heaven and earth did you manage it?"

"Well, it wasn't the work of a single afternoon," she said dryly. "I did it all over a few weeks, taking my time and using my books and being very careful. Anyway, it was something to do with what I've learned recently, which was better than staring at a blank wall for hours. I would have hated to break one of Thora's radios over my own curiosity and boredom."

Deciding it was fair enough and really not surprising, Zan shrugged and set the radio down. Zizi bounced to Leah's side, his eyes wide and admiring as he tugged impatiently at her hand.

"Leah, that was – you're just so – you're so smart," he babbled excitedly. "You should – maybe you could go and – you should work for them – for the radios. 'Cause you're so smart."

"Maybe one day, I will," she agreed, settling herself on the floor and pulling the boy into her lap. "I could be very good at that."

"You should – I hope you – could you maybe teach me? Now that you know it all? I think I'd – I wanna learn, too."

"That might be a good idea," Leah mused. "Your world is changing rapidly, after all. It will be good for you to understand it all. I think you'd enjoy it, too."

Zizi beamed with delight, and strained to look over his shoulder at his sister. "Vivi, did you hear? Leah's gonna teach me! You should – why don't you – you wanna learn, too?"

Vivi stuck out her tongue at the thought and went on tugging at the tight collar of her dress. "Sounds boring," she whined. "I like adventures better."

"So we've noticed, little one," Forley agreed with a chuckle. "And adventures seem to like you, too. But we'll talk more about that another time. This interview appears to be starting, and we don't want to miss a single word of it."

No, they certainly didn't. Curiosity aside, knowing what to expect from this ball would be an enormous advantage to the rebellion, and so the Crusaders planned to pay special attention to every bit of news they could find. Star pulled a notebook and a pencil from her dress pocket, ready to take notes on any important details she heard.

From an interview with the queen, she imagined that every word spoken would be an important detail.

It started off normally, as many such programs did. An annoyingly long time passed as the voices of various reporters recapped the news everyone knew, repeating details needlessly, seeming to go out of their way to put the main report off for as long as possible.

"It's a clever hook," Forley commented after about five minutes of this. "Everyone in the city will be sitting around a radio right now, waiting with baited breath to hear the voice of their ruler for the first time. All the stations know it, too. They've got all their reporters stalling for as long as they can to build up the suspense. People must be growing bored with this drivel by now; but the more they hear of it, the more curious they become. They wouldn't dare change the channel now."

"Not that they could," Zan put in. "There isn't much else being broadcast tonight. I think there's one station still playing music somewhere, but you would have to hunt for it. It is a special occasion, after all."

" _And now, for the moment we've all been waiting for,"_ came a female voice. _"We are coming to you live from within the palace, with a special interview with the Dragon Lord, herself."_

"This is it. Zan, turn it up," Star told him needlessly. He did as she had asked without answering, and went back to focusing almost too intensely on the broadcast.

" _Oh, this is just too exciting, isn't it?"_ came the melodious, powerful voice of a woman. _"I'm just brimming over this whole affair, and have so much to say! I do hope you've brought plenty of questions for me. I could just talk about it all night."_

Most of them gawked in disbelief at what they were hearing. Zan was frowning, looking a bit stunned. Zeel was scowling at the radio as if she hoped it would burst into flames under her gaze.

"That's the queen?" Alanis asked, as the sound of many people asking questions took over. "That's what she sounds like? It's not at all what I was expecting."

"What were you expecting?" Zan asked her.

"I don't know," Alanis shrugged. "Something… Eviler. Older, more wicked, perhaps."

Forley nodded vaguely in agreement. "She has a rather nice voice," he admitted. "Pleasant, even. From what I've heard of her appearance, the two must go very well together."

"Her voice reminds me of someone else's," Star added thoughtfully. "Shaaran's, I think."

"Don't say that," her mother snapped, with alarming coldness in her voice. "The two couldn't be more different!"

Star cringed under her mother's anger. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean it that way, really."

Zeel's face softened and she sighed sadly, no doubt pained by memories of her beloved friend, and hurt that her own child could say she had anything in common the Dragon Lord.

"Of course you didn't," she whispered back, as the noise on the radio began to settle again. "But that is exactly what she _wants_ you to think, you see. You mustn't let her fool you like that again, do you understand me, Star?"

The command was gentle but firm and very final. Seeing that her mother had been shaken, Star nodded obediently, and Zeel finally looked satisfied.

" _It is said that Central Control's one purpose is to serve without question,"_ began one reporter. _"Never before has it been thanked for its service. What have your legions done to earn such lavish appreciation?"_

" _A just question,"_ the queen answered, overly gracious. _"But what is a strong monarch without a strong army? A strong army is a happy one; and a happy one has good reason to serve. And there has been such a long string of failures in the recent past, it felt right to remind our warriors just how much their service is appreciated. It wouldn't do for them to go and forget how important their place in this world is, now would it?"_

There was murmuring, and the sound of pencils on paper, and more shouting from the gathered reporters for attention.

" _Is it not true that regular officers have no business within the palace?"_ a voice finally asked clearly. _"Why allow them in now, of all times?"_

The queen laughed lightly at the question. _"Of all times? Oh, in reference to the supposed rebellion, yes, of course,"_ she purred, much to Zan's clear horror. _"I have very little fear of that nonsense. The palace will be well-guarded, by a private force of my own. Should anything unfortunate happen that night, it will be easily contained, no fear of that."_

" _A private force?"_ asked quite a young, confused voice. _"Were there not supposed to be as many officers in attendance as possible?"_

" _Well, they will be guarding_ me _, and so they_ will _be in attendance, will they not? Another question, please, by all means. I will never run out."_

" _Your majesty, there is a recent rumor that it is be a masquerade ball. Can you confirm this?"_

" _Oh, I can absolutely confirm this,"_ the queen all but squealed. _"How I was hoping someone would be clever enough to ask! Yes, indeed, it is to be a masquerade – we haven't had one here at the palace since my coming out many years ago, but I did adore it. I expect magnificent costumes and glorious masks from all my officers that night. I am already planning contests, and prizes for the best ones, so for all you officers listening, you had best get on it. You are running out of time, you know."_

Everyone glanced at Zan, who must have felt that remark as a jab. Most officers made such a pitiful salary, how were they supposed to spare the expense on something so outlandish? The young man immediately looked over at Leah, his face imploring. Wordlessly understanding, Leah smiled and nodded back at him, silently promising him a costume so grand it would win every prize the queen could come up with.

" _What of the rumor of civilians being allowed into the ball?"_ someone asked. _"It sounds impossible. Where has it come from? What does it mean?"_

" _Civilians? Ah, yes, You had me puzzled at first, but I do remember now. So many of my faithful servants are married or intended, it only seemed fair extend the invitation to them as well. An extra treat on my part. All you officers who are listening, if there is a special someone on your mind, by all means, bring them along. It is a party, after all. The more, the merrier."_

Now Zan looked at once at Star, who had paused her notetaking to gasp excitedly.

"Star, no – "

"Star, yes!" she exclaimed. "You don't really think I'd let you do this on your own if there was a choice, do you?"

Plainly, Zan was horrified at how things had changed. "Star, please, I'm begging you. _Please_ don't do this."

Star snorted at tossed her hair defiantly. "You're not my father, and you're not my husband. You can't tell me what to do. The law says so quite clearly."

From her place on the floor, Leah took a deep breath and sighed rather wearily. "Well, alright," she said. "I'll just start planning another one, then…"

Zan glared between the two of them, fear replaced by dull anger.

"This is not over," he growled at Star. "You and I are having a long talk about this later, and it won't end until I've changed your mind somehow."

Star glanced over her family and saw a similar sentiment on most of their faces. The only one who didn't look angry with her was Leah, who knew better and had already given up fighting with her. Zizi was clinging to her, upset over what had happened. Vivi was hugging her knees to her chest and trying to hide her face behind them, because she was clearly jealous but also didn't want to be scolded for it.

" _So, a masquerade ball,"_ came a familiar, aggravatingly bubbly voice. This reporter was a well-known gossip columnist, famous for made up tales in a Northside newspaper, and now even more so for her popular radio program. _"It is sure to be the party of the century, your majesty – and you, the sight of it! Can you tell us about your own costume? I'm sure my readers and listeners are just_ dying _to hear all about it."_

The queen was laughing lightly, amused by the woman's fawning and pleased to talk more about herself. _"I am just_ dying _to tell them all about it, daring,"_ she answered. _"Fittings are to begin shortly, for a gown I am designing with my own two hands. When all is finished, it will resemble a black cat – my spirit animal, of which I am perhaps overly fond. I've insisted on doing the designs myself, for the details matter a great deal to me. I don't trust anyone one else to do it properly."_

The reporter giggled excitedly, and could be clearly heard scribbling feverishly on a notepad of her own. _"And how well that will look against the stunning diadem of the Dragon Lords – the crown of your ancestors, which bears our source of power. You officers will be honored, indeed, to see it in person."_

The queen laughed again; but this time there was a tightness in her voice that seemed to say this woman had overstepped a boundary.

" _Yes, yes the diadem,"_ she said coolly. _"My officers will have to go disappointed, for as it happens, I will not be wearing it that night. I've looked over what I've designed so far, and already I can see that the diadem will not suit it. I won't be able to wear it over my mask, which has already been cast and is being made as we speak. And it will look horribly garish with my gown, in any case."_

There were scandalized gasps and cries from the reporters, all clamoring for more answers.

" _But your majesty, the diadem – "_

" _It is your source of power – "_

" _How can you not – "_

" _Are you not afraid for its safety?"_

" _Is it wise to set it aside like this?"_

How odd it was, Star thought, that these common men and women were so upset, when the queen thought nothing of it. The diadem of the Dragon Lords was legendary. All the Zebak knew of it, and had seen pictures of it in books, because it meant everything to them. Within the spiked circlet of silver and gold were held four glittering gems of great power, one for each element, said to give the wearer strength and wisdom.

And in the very center of it, like a third eye, stood a large, polished black stone that shone with otherworldly magic – the obsidian talisman, given to the Titan Noma eons ago by Heomiri, son of Solaris. Like the Earth Sigil, the Pipe of Storms, and the Maris Crystal, the source of the Zebak people's magic had survived all the long years and all the troubles that had come with them, encased in silver and gold, and rarely let out of its Titan's sight.

The people knew this. Star knew it. Even Zan knew it, and looked just as baffled as the reporters sounded. They knew to respect and revere the power of their talisman. They couldn't believe that their queen – its keeper and bearer and heir – could put it aside so lightly, out of apathy and pure vanity. As if she didn't understand it, or even care about it.

Something stirred in the corner of Star's sight, and she looked over to see that Vivi had come alive all at once. The girl was sitting bolt upright, her sharp ears tuned to the upset shouts of the reporters, her pale eyes filled with mischievous ideas.

Star knew that look far too well. It was a look of hunger, and clever plots to fill it. She frowned at Vivi, seeing at once what the girl was thinking to do. Before she could say anything, Forley noticed it too, and clamped a restraining hand on Vivi's shoulder.

"Oh no you don't, little one," he said severely. "I know what you're thinking, and the answer is no. Absolutely not! The very idea is madness!"

Vivi gazed up at him with terrible longing. "It's the heist of a lifetime," she said breathlessly.

"You're not taking that blasted thing, and that's final," Forley told her. "Leave it to someone more eager to die. There's no way it could be done, not even by you."

Vivi pouted at him and crossed her arms angrily. "That's what they said about escaping the Central Dungeon," she muttered.

Forley slid a sympathetic eye down at her and patted her head. "Something far more precious than metal and stone was in that dungeon, Vivi. Besides, we had a map, and a team, and a plan in place. You don't even – "

"Hush, you two," Alanis interrupted. "She's talking again."

" _Now, now, settle down,"_ the queen was saying, her voice chiding. _"I know, the disappointment must be crushing; but certainly it isn't worth such a fuss. The diadem? Why, it is only a trinket, really. Those in attendance will have the far greater honor of meeting me in person, and enjoying my gracious presence for a long, glorious evening. A short glimpse at a simple crown would be nothing compared to that, surely."_

Star shook her head, not liking this anymore than the reporters did. She reached for the shape of the medallion under her dress, and as she touched it she could have sworn that it was reflecting her confusion and sadness. She looked down at her notes and sighed heavily, unease growing in her heart.

"Zan," she said quietly, "something doesn't seem quite right about this."

"How do you mean?" he asked.

"I'm not sure, myself, but…" She frowned over her notes. "Appreciating Central in spite of its failures. No fear of the rebellion, but a private force to guard against it, anyway. A room full of people with their faces hidden. A Titan putting aside the source of her magic as if it were costume jewelry…"

Exasperated and a bit frightened, she looked up at him and shook her head again. "None of it follows. It simply doesn't add up. At least…. Not to anything good. Not for us."

Zan looked nervous, but not wholly surprised. "Do you think she's lying about something?"

"Not that I've heard. As far as I can tell, she's told nothing but the truth so far; and really, that's what concerns me. What if this whole thing is a trap?"

A voice huffed suddenly from the stairs. "Star, my dear, almost surely it _is_ a trap."

The gathering turned to see Zamiel trudging up the last few steps, everything about him looking exhausted. Zaneth came sulking silently after him, his copper eyes narrowed toward his feet and his face sour. More surprised to see them this way than anyone else, Zan switched off the radio and left his place by the mantle to meet them.

"When did the two of you get back?" he asked, concerned. "The general wanted a word with you, didn't he? I thought you'd be longer."

Zamiel shook his head bitterly. "He didn't want to miss tonight's broadcast, and said it wouldn't do for us to miss it, either. Our meeting was very brief."

Zan shrugged at his brothers. "So… What was it about? Does he suspect us? Are we in trouble?"

"Both, perhaps." Zamiel winced and took a deep breath. "…I'm to be married."

Every person gathered jumped to their feet in alarm, shouting of the unfairness and awfulness of it. As it had been with Zirita, it was not uncommon for guards to find themselves matched with strangers, and to not be told of it until short days before a short, unceremonious wedding. But that Zamiel could have avoided that fate for so long to be caught by it now was nothing short of an outrage.

The only person who remained silent was Zaneth, who leaned back against the wall, crossed his arms, and continued scowling at the floor.

"Do you even know who it is?" Zan demanded. "Or how long until – "

"Yes, I know," Zamiel answered heavily, holding up his hand to halt his brother's many questions. "The appropriate documents have already been drawn up. I've already been forced to sign them. Here. See for yourself."

He handed Zan a folded sheet of parchment, a heavy wax seal and stamped notary plainly visible in the corners. Zan snatched the sheet and raked his blazing eyes over it, until he found the signatures at the bottom. Surely there was his brother's, and his master's, and his ruler's – and the name of the woman being forced on his whole family.

It was easy to tell when he had found it. Rage flared on his handsome face, and his mouth fell open in utter disbelief. He turned back to Zamiel, gaping like a fish and trying to make his mouth form words.

"Tell me it isn't so," he begged at last. "Zamiel, tell me it isn't so!"

Zamiel bowed his head and didn't answer. It appeared more than an answer to Zan, who went on staring at the form in heartbroken disbelief. Having enough of helplessly watching the scene, Forley came to his friend's side and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Who is it, then?" he asked. "Are you ever going to tell us?"

"Oh, here," Zan growled, shoving the paper into Forley's hands. "I don't know if I can bear to say it out loud."

Forley wasted no time in scanning it for himself; and unlike his friends, he was shocked enough to blurt the name out the moment he saw it.

"It's Tiba?" he all but shouted. "He's making you _marry_ Tiba Barsa? What kind of cruel joke is this?"

"The deliberate kind, that's what," Zamiel answered starkly, as the rest of the gathering gasped in horror. "You know what this means, of course."

Everyone stared back at him blankly, many of them still reeling from the terrible news.

"Do we know what it means?" Leah asked at last.

With a sigh that seemed to take most of his remaining energy, Zamiel tried to straighten himself. "It means what I answered before. Our master _does_ suspect us, and we _are_ in trouble. Why else would he be placing me under the constant supervision of his favorite servant? This arrangement hasn't been made on someone's wicked whims, it has been made with terrible purpose."

Zeel nodded, a shade of understanding in her frown. "So Tiba is less a bride for you, and more a spy for her master. The rules of these arrangements say for wives to obey their husbands; but we all know where _her_ loyalty lies. It is a dirty and underhanded trick, to be certain."

Just at that moment, Star glanced at Zaneth, wondering why he had yet to raise his voice or make any sort of sign. And in that moment, she saw his narrowed eyes slide away into an empty corner, as if he had been personally insulted. With a jolt, Star saw that he was seething with jealousy, and would have given anything to be in his brother's place.

For some strange, unknown reason, Zaneth would not have minded having to marry Tiba Barsa. It would have been welcome to him, in fact. But it was Zamiel their master wanted watched, and so the match had been made; and Zaneth nearly loathed his brother for it. Star felt sure of this all at once; and with the Earth Sigil as upset as she was, she didn't have to wonder how she knew this with so much certainty. She also felt repulsed by it, for who would _want_ to be with such an awful woman?

"Look at this," Forley was saying hopefully, pointing to another filled in line on the form. "The day of the ceremony isn't for a while. You have some time to make one of your brilliant plans. You can still weasel your way out of this, if you hurry."

"The day of the ceremony," Zamiel said angrily, "is shortly after this damn ball of ours, and I can't believe that this is coincidence. It bothers me intensely. I have no idea what the two events have to do with each other; but there will be plenty of trouble in the meantime. With that monster hoovering around me in all my free time, how am I supposed to make plans of any sort? It will be impossible!"

His head sank into his hands. "And I haven't told Ofelia yet," he said in a quiet voice, as if it were the most important part of the whole problem to him. Which it must have been. "This arrangement is a charade, I'm positive; but it is an official arrangement, all the same. I'll barely be able to see or speak to her again, let alone hold her or kiss her, or tell her how much she means to me. Even going near her will put her in terrible danger, and I can't bear the thought of doing that to her."

He laughed without humor and went on, "I remember when Rita was married out of the blue like this. She tried to push us all away to keep us safe, too. I told her it was foolish, and she said that I didn't understand. Well… I understand now. I owe her a lavish apology, it seems."

Seeing that he was out of sorts, Zeel marched to his side, put her arm around his drooping shoulders, and led him to a chair.

"You are tired and in terrible shock, and so we can't blame you for idle babbling," she pointed out in her firm but gentle voice. "However, it won't do you as much good as one of your sound, useful plans. The evening meal will be on its way upstairs in a moment or two, now. We will eat and drink and form a plan together. You are not alone in this, young man."

"Yeah," Zizi agreed brightly, grabbing Zamiel's hand. "We'll do it – together! You made a plan to – and you got me – you saved me. Now we can do the – we'll save you. And I can – I'm gonna help _you_ , now. It'll be great!"

At last, Zamiel found a reason to smile as he clasped the little boy's hands in great thanks. There was only so much Zizi could do; but his faith in his friends and unwillingness to despair had a way of inspiring everyone around him. All he really knew was that there was trouble, and that his band of brave, clever friends would find a way out of it, and that he was to have a hand in it this time. They were together; and so to him, they were unstoppable.

Moved by the boy's enthusiasm, the rest of them were nodding in agreement and coming to stand around Zamiel's chair, supporting him with their presence.

"Zizi's right, we'll think of something," Alanis told him. "We'll find a way. We always do, don't we?"

Zamiel gazed up at her and gave her a wry smile. "You, who were once so suspicious of me?"

Alanis returned the smile and shrugged faintly. "You've taught me so much, in spite of that. It would be an honor to return the favor."

Content with this, Zamiel sank back into the chair, thinking slowly.

"Well, there's one thing I know for sure we can do."

"Oh?" said Zan. "And what's that?"

"Carry on with our original plan, and attack during the ball," Zamiel answered solidly. "This arrangement changes nothing. We attack, and we succeed. Or we attack, and we fail. In either case, no matter what happens, at least one thing is certain."

Zan squinted at his brother vagueness. "...Being…?"

"That I won't have to marry Tiba Barsa, which is suddenly all that matters to me. I would rather die honorably, trying to do the right thing, than be saddled with her for any length of time."

To which the rest couldn't help agreeing with, even laughing over, though his words were unusually rash.

All of them except for Zaneth, who continued to sulk and think terrible thoughts of his brothers.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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There, you see? That's the sort of definite ending I'm talking about! It's good and final, with a little humor to take the edge off all the drama, and ominous enough to keep the readers invested while waiting on the next chapter. It _feels_ like a proper ending.

I'll stop bugging you about it now. :/

I feel like I should have mentioned the diadem beforehand, maybe even built it up slowly, instead of throwing it out there suddenly like this; but then, perhaps there's a reason for it I didn't even know. After all, there's a lot of stuff our guys don't even know. I had a point. I think it was that I'm sorry for waiting until book four to mention that the Zebak talisman is fitted into the Dragon Lord's crown. Seems like an important detail to put off for so long, only to spring it on you as if it were common knowledge.

But then, if you think real hard, you'll find that Zadina has never worn it when you've seen her in person. And that should worry you, because this is a Belt of Deltora-level magical biohazard that should never be let off its keeper's person or out of their sight. So that's a concern. And you should remember that for later.

I'm mostly just glad that this update came together so quickly. The next two or three might just be filler and incidental adventures, because I only have 12 chapters plotted solidly and feel like there should be more. We'll see how that turns out.


	8. Chapter 7: Problems and Solutions

I can't remember the last time I edited a chapter so HEAVILY. This was about 7.5K, which is just over average for this series; but it was _draaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagging_ , and in fact put my little brother to sleep. _I_ nearly fell asleep reading it to him. It felt like hours passed in reading it out loud, mainly because it felt like reciting thick mud. Thick mud, with lots of typos.

So I cut out more than 1,000 words of filler, inner monologues, and a whopping five uses of the words "firm" and "firmly", and now it looks much nicer. Some of what I cut will probably find a home in other chapters, when it becomes relevant, but today it was just taking up and wasting space. It took three days to fix it up, but I'm finally satisfied.

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 _Chapter 7: Problems and Solutions_

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The rebellion's regular activities carried on over the days and weeks that followed, but to Star, and to everyone else, it all felt very odd without their leader standing among them. The codes still appeared in the papers; but they seemed different now, and it was clearly because Zamiel was no longer helping with them. The usual meeting gathered at Bhlai House for food and drink, and news of good progress was shared, but Zan and Zaneth had come alone to make excuses for their brother. It was rare to see him at Bhlai House at all anymore, or at the bakery, or anywhere but hiding in his own home.

"Tiba just shows up at our house at all hours, out of the blue," Zan explained one rainy afternoon. "As if she hopes she can catch us in an act of treachery if she pounces at the right time. Of course we are careful and never leave her anything to find, but she tries anyway. She's torn our house apart, top to bottom; and she said she was merely exploring what is to be her new home – learning where all the _closets_ were, she said – but we all know better. She could turn the neighborhood over, but she wouldn't find anything linking us to the rebellion."

"Are you sure?" Star asked of that rather bold claim.

"Knowing Zamiel, I'd bet mightily on it. He's probably burnt any evidence of it… Which might explain where some of my recent notes went. I left them lying on my desk at home, but scribbled the key to a new code in the corner without thinking. No doubt he saw it at once and got rid of the whole thing. Just like him to miss nothing."

Star peered at him, and then a frown gathered on her face. "Has she been in your things?" she nearly shouted.

Zan snorted, and hunched his shoulders at the sharpness of her voice. "She's been through my things three times, made a mess of my room, and waited up for me just to command me to clean it up again."

Anger boiling inside her, it was all Star could do to resist stomping her foot on the floor. "Why on earth has she done this?"

"Just to spite me. She knows there's nothing there – she ought to, by now. She just wants to harass me, and so I've harassed her back. I haven't bothered picking up the last mess she left, and so she will have nothing left to destroy the next time she feels like picking on me."

Infuriated, Star turned her scowl to the floor. Zan's master had treated him with especial unfairness ever since he was a child; but since he had come of age, the general seemed to be satisfied with him at last, and now treated him the same as his other men. But Tiba had plainly grown accustomed to abusing him; of course she had no intention of abandoning that.

It peeved Star beyond aggravation that there was nothing she could do to stop this. Zan was trying to make light of it, to pretend that such treatment no longer bothered him; but it was no use. His feelings were plain on his face, and Star knew him far too well. So she just held him close, not daring to put aside his feelings by insisting that things would look up in the end. It was what many people would have told him at once, in a vain attempt to cheer him; but she couldn't bear to do so, when she could promise him nothing.

"Star," he said in her ear, "is there no way at all I talk you out of this? The ball, and the trap, I mean. Whatever happens, the night will end with violence and chaos – there's no way around that. If you are swept up in it and hurt… I'll never forgive myself."

"There is nothing to forgive," she told him gently. "I've already made my choice. I'm tired of hiding behind walls and masks, sneaking around and running away. You will be there that night, making a stand and taking your destiny into your hands. I want to be there, standing and fighting alongside you when it happens.

"And besides," she continued when he opened his mouth to protest, "Leah's already gotten to work on my costume. She's making me a gown – a real ball gown, in the colors of a bee, my spirit animal. I can't ask her to abandon the project now. And it would be a shame if you never got to see me wearing it, don't you think?"

And Zan, who certainly couldn't argue with that, simply sighed heavily and said nothing.

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The next morning, Zane came running to Bhlai House in a frenzy, looking pleased for the first time in a month.

"Thora, we're calling another meeting," he announced. "It's tonight, and it's important."

Thora's eyes had grown wide at the proclamation. "You just had one last week! What is going on with you people?"

"Don't worry, we have good news," Zane insisted, clasping the woman's hands. "Tiba's been summoned back to the general's house tonight to serve at a party. Zamiel is free for the first time in weeks, and so he has – "

"Called another meeting so he can see everyone," Thora finished for him, grinning with delight. "I'll begin preparations at once, then, and spread the word while I'm out and about today."

Smiling his thanks, Zane turned to hurry off again. "I have a lot of people to speak to just now, but I will be back with my family tonight. I've already been to the bakery, so don't worry with them."

Thora hummed and shook her head in wonder. "I can only imagine how excited those young people must be."

"Well," Zane commented as he walked out the door, "Ofelia had to excuse herself suddenly, before I could finish speaking. For sure she has hidden herself in the kitchen pantry, weeping with joy. I can't blame the girl for that, not in the slightest."

Thora stood in her doorway to wave goodbye; and very nearly as soon as Zane was out of sight, someone else came around the corner. It was difficult to startle Thora Bhlai, but she couldn't help gasping in surprise at who was skipping to her front door, nearly hidden behind a stack of books.

"Vivi? When did you get out? I had no idea you left!"

The girl peeked around her books and grinned her impish grin. "I know," she answered. "No one does. It's called being sneaky."

"And where have you gotten all these from?" Thora demanded, marching over and snatching the first book from the top of the stack. " _'Architectural Marvels of the Royal Palace,'_ " she read slowly, peering suspiciously down at Vivi. "An interesting choice for light reading, young lady."

Vivi just shrugged and continued marching into the house. "I've really got to put these down, already," she said smartly, not answering any of Thora's questions. "Books are a lot heavier than I thought they would be, and I've carried them all the way from the library, can you believe it? My arms are about to fall right off from lugging these around!"

Thora frowned and shut the door firmly after them, locking it for good measure, because Vivi was definitely up to something. She had dumped her stack gracelessly on the table in the main room, and was now stretching her tired arms in relief while settling herself to pour through them. Thora watched curiously from the doorway as Vivi picked up books at random, flipped through a few pages, and then set them aside, one after the other. She seemed to be looking for something specific, and was sure to refuse any help.

"What are you looking for, child?" she asked anyway.

"I have one with maps and blueprints in it," Vivi answered carelessly.

Thora glanced over some of the other titles. 'The Mason's Tale: Accounts of the Royal Builders'. 'The Complete Evolution of the Walls, Towers, and Grounds of the Royal Palace'. 'The Gardens of the Dragon Lords: A History and Walking Tour'. 'Designing the Grandest of Designs for the Grandest of Men'. 'Artifacts Magical and Mundane from Within the Royal Palace".

Again, Thora peered down at Vivi, who was still going through her books.

"Royal Palace, this; Royal Palace, that," she commented. "The Royal Palace certainly seems to be on your mind today, Vivi. Is there any reason for this?"

Vivi glanced up, he eyes shifting around dishonestly. "No reason."

Surely she must have known that Thora would never believe her; surely she knew it wasn't even worth a try, because she sounded pitiful. As it was, Thora was shaking her head, having guessed the reason at once.

"You're still thinking to break into the palace and lift the diadem during the ball," the woman scolded. "Vivi, how could you? We've told you to put the idea out of your mind!"

Vivi frowned at her. "I could _so_ do it," she snapped. "I just need to have a plan, like Forley said, so I'm making one. I'm even _reading_ for it."

That was true enough, and testament to just how badly the girl wanted this. Thora smiled tightly and said, "Admirable as that may be, we did not teach you to read so you could commit cleverer crimes."

To her annoyance, Vivi giggled. "'Could commit cleverer crimes,'" she laughed. "Try saying that five times fast!"

Instead of growing angry, Thora picked up one of the thicker books and waved it in Vivi's face. "I daresay you can't even read half of what you've brought home."

"I can read just fine, thanks. I've gotten really, really good."

"Then you shan't have any trouble reading me the first two pages of this one without being confused by any of it. Zan and Leah could certainly do it; but then, that's Zan and Leah."

Indignant, Vivi snatched the book back and looked at the cover, her confidence fading as she looked over the tediously long title.

"Oh…" she sighed. "Oh, why did I even pick this one?!"

Thora calmly knelt beside her, waiting expectantly for the girl to open the book.

"Well, child? Let's hear it, let's see you reading so well."

Vivi scowled at her and tossed the book aside, crossing her arms angrily. "That one was a mistake," she insisted. "I don't know how it got in there. I don't want to read that one." She looked over her pile and picked up a much slimmer volume, the one about the royal gardens. "Here. I'll read to you from this one. I meant to bring this one home."

"That is what I suspected," Thora said lightly, rising and brushing her skirts back into place. "Very well, then, go on and make your little plans, dear. You'll have a time of it with material like this. What's more, Forley will come home in the evening to find you plotting in the middle of the main room, and he will be furious with you. I'd suggest you make your plans quickly, if you can."

Annoyed to be foiled so easily, but never one to give up, Vivi went back to her books and began rifling through them with a new sense of urgency.

And then, Thora got an idea.

"There's to be an emergency meeting here this evening, you know, and Zamiel is going to be here for it."

Vivi stopped what she was doing, and her usual grin came over her face. "Is he, really? He's finally gotten away from that rotten old witch? Oh, I knew he would figure it out! I just _knew_ it!"

Smiling at her enthusiasm, Thora continued, "Well, it's only for the one evening, I'm afraid. However, it might be nice to have as many of our comrades here as possible, as it is likely we won't be seeing our fearless leader again for some time. Perhaps you ought to visit your friend Keids today, and invite him and some of his crew to join us."

"That is a good idea," Vivi agreed, throwing her books aside and jumping to her feet. "Boy, will they ever want to be here tonight. Mavis was mad that he wasn't here last time; she snuck all the way up from the den for the meeting, just a'brimmin' with questions, she said, and he never showed up."

Thora nodded sadly, remembering the boisterous woman's complaining. "She understood in the end; but yes, she was upset. A chance to finally ask all her questions will be welcome, no doubt. And I shouldn't mind seeing that captain of hers again, either."

"I won't come back without his promise to be here," Vivi told her firmly, her grin turning cheeky. "I'll put on my good clothes and go right now, then. If I hurry, I can be home in time for lunch – or maybe tea and cakes."

Of course, she was already wearing good clothes, some of the finest in Southside. But the girl hated how tight and frilly and fine her new things were, only wearing them because her family made her do so. In her mind, her _good_ clothes were the ragged shirt, patched overalls, and ripped stockings she used to wear as a homeless thief. Thora and Leah had both tried to wrestle the threadbare garments away from the girl, hoping to be done with them forever, but Vivi had insisted on keeping them. For Crusading, or visiting the sewers, she had pointed out.

Zeel, on the other hand, had smiled and nodded as she had helped the girl find a trunk to store them in. She had told her that it was smart and practical of her. She had also said that the few clothes of an old life could be strangely important to a person, and that she understood.

Hearing Vivi dashing up the stairs to find her old clothes, Thora made a command decision. She took a notepad and pencil from her apron pocket and wrote a short message:

 _Keids,_

 _I should like it very much if you came to the meeting this evening. Consider it a formal invitation. I want to speak with you in person. It is of great importance. Please be here._

To make a point she knew the man could never refuse, she folded the scrap of paper several times and placed it into the locket around her neck. When Vivi reappeared minutes later, drab and dingy and much happier, Thora removed the locket and placed it in the girl's nimble hands.

"Take this to our dear captain," Thora said with a wink. "He should know well what to do with it."

Now it was Vivi's turn to look suspiciously at Thora. "But you love this necklace. Even I would never take it from you."

"Just do as I say, little one. I plan to have it back in good time."

Vivi shrugged and clasped the locket around her own neck without any more questions. Then, leaving Thora a quick hug, she let herself out into the street, on her way to visit her old life for a while.

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The Crusaders, Thora, and the rest of squad C-57 did their best over that day; but as they had all suspected it would be, the turnout for this emergency meeting was disappointing. Most people they had spoken to had shaken their heads in deep regret, saying that it was too short notice. Plans would have to be canceled, sitters would have to be found for children, dinners would go unmade, precious pay would be given up. No one could be blamed for missing the meeting, but all of them were missed.

Not even June was able to come, Star had realized sadly. Zamiel was only free this evening because Tiba had been summoned to the general's house, to serve at a party. Almost certainly, June would be dancing at it. Star made sure to pass a message along when a different slave happened by the bakery, to at least let her friend know what was happening; but it had annoyed her furiously.

And so, at seven o'clock in the evening, only the most dedicated and available rebels had gathered on the third floor. A few men and women from the neighborhood had come, and so had some other officers who had the night off. Seth and Spencer were there, hoping for new codes for their paper. Keids and Mavis had slunk out of the sewers, and were now in deep, quiet discussion with Thora. Misha had arrived with Zirita, and Zane had come with his whole family, as it always was. Ofelia's aging father had come, too, shuffling along on his daughter's arm, insisting to his hosts that he missed Zamiel as sorely as the rest of them did.

"He good boy – good man," he had said to Thora in slow, broken common tongue. "I no like him, long time ago. He make my precious in trouble. I no like him. But he good man, protect my precious from evil, love her long time. _Fa'en ik'atasa_ – he my son."

Some time passed in waiting after that, and even the rest of the squad became anxious. Conversation grew tense and awkward; and try as she might, Zione couldn't lift the tension with her bard magic. Not when she, herself, was glancing impatiently toward the stairs every few seconds.

Then, at last, the brothers Garased came marching up the stairs together, and the whole room erupted in cheers of welcome and relief.

"Where have you been?" Zane demanded as he rushed to meet them. "We've been here waiting around for nearly an hour. We thought perhaps you were being held prisoner, after all."

Zamiel laughed shortly and shook his deputy's hand. "Just a little," he answered. "Tiba hung around as long as she could, and then kept returning after she left. She hoped to catch us wandering off while she wasn't there to keep an eye on us. I'm so sorry for the delay, but we had to make sure she wasn't coming back before we could leave."

Zane shook his head and stepped back to make way for Ofelia, who was charging through the crowd after them. "A poor excuse for a fiancée, if you ask me," he muttered as the lovers flew into each other's arms. "What is a marriage without this sort of trust?"

Star stood where she was and enjoyed the tearful reunion in silence, and smiled at Zan as he came to join her.

"I can't believe how good it is to see him again," she said to him.

Zan shrugged. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean. I still can't get away from him."

They shared a laugh, and then Star searched the crowd for Zaneth, wondering what he might be doing. As he often was these days, he had found an empty spot on the wall to lean against, and was trying not to look too angry. She could tell that Zan was watching his older brother, too, and was troubled.

"I don't know what to do or say to him," he sighed. "Tiba left the house and returned four times. It frustrated Zamiel and I, but you should have seen Zaneth. You'd have thought he was a puppy, who knows only right now and forever, certain that his master was never coming back. He greeted her with charm and gladness each time; and each time, she ignored him. She pushed him out of her face the last time."

Star frowned slightly over this. "It seems like he is worse and worse every time something happens. I can't understand what's come over him."

"Neither can I. You know, she complained yesterday that she has no place to spend a night in her _own_ house, which is how Zamiel and I like it. But Zaneth offered her his own bed and spent the night on the upstairs sofa! Now she will expect this often, and we want to strangle him. And he is still no nearer to making her notice him."

Star winced at this awful news. "Oh, Zan, I'm so sorry."

"We'll deal with it somehow. It's only for a short time, really. Spring is coming quickly."

It took some time for the gathering to settle down and finish welcoming their leader. When they had all sat down and helped themselves to food and drink, Zamiel stood before them at last with all sorts of plans on his face.

"It's been a while, friends, and this was terribly short notice," he said to them. "I apologize for it all, but I suppose by now we all know why it has happened."

One of the guards who usually came to the meetings scoffed loudly and tossed her head. "Yes, we've all heard, and we all pity you. We're just glad you've escaped that fate for a few hours. Are you doing alright?"

"I'm well enough," Zamiel answered. "A bit anxious to see my people again, and exhausted from Tiba's demands and all-seeing eye on my back, but that is all."

"A lecherous lil' spy, she be, an' mark me word," Keids bellowed from the back of the room. "I seen de like a'fore, many a time. Ye take it too light like, young'un. She be up to somewhat, she be."

Zamiel held up his hands in peace. "To be sure, I know. It's dangerous, and I know well what it means. It means my master is suspicious, at last, for he has put his favorite minion in my own house to keep an eye on me. It's far more than a peeve, and I have many concerns. I worry that we won't be able to hide from her forever, but my brothers and I are doing the best we can, with her in our house."

He took a deep breath, perhaps realizing too late how bleak he sounded. "Well, that just about sums up what I've been doing for the past month. I want to know what's been going on with all of you in that time. Martel, Noni, Raska, some of your people had begun finding people of their own, when we met last month. Are they well?"

The three he had addressed all stood up, looking pleased with the news they had to bring.

"My Sabrina is doing very well, sir," the man Raska answered. "She is a youngster, and was unsure of herself when I first recruited her; but she has a fine spirit and a good eye. I put her with Satsi, another boy from my neighborhood with people of his own, to be her mentor. She took to it, as I thought she might, and has been gathering people of her own for the last two weeks. She's recruited five, so far."

"I can say most of the same of my Errol," added Noni. "He brought me the names of another three yesterday, and another four just this afternoon."

"My Flora has been at it a while longer than the others," finished Martel. "She had a rough start, for she is shorter than most in her class and is sometimes teased because of it. She's been talking to her teachers, instead, and so has recruited most of those in her school. It's fifteen in all, including headmaster Naza."

Zamiel was stunned, and also pleased. "Eliyu Naza? I know the man. He taught Zan his letters and numbers. And he's now headmaster, you say? That Flora is a crafty little wonder, then! Let her know I'm sincerely impressed with her, Martel."

"I will, sir. She'll be glad to hear it."

"Not to speak against Errol or Sabrina, who I'm sure have worked just as hard. It only sounds like she could stand to hear it more often. They're all good kids, and I've watched them grow over the last two years. Hand me the names they've gathered after the meeting, and we'll have them added to the rest."

The three nodded their thanks and returned to their seats.

"And now I have a serious question for the Crusaders," Zamiel went on, never surprised to find the four of them near each other. "I know it was never discussed, but are you keeping track of the people you rescue? Their names and numbers? Any information at all?"

The four of them glanced between each other.

"That is a good question," Forley said slowly. "I think we put Zan in charge of that…?"

Zan peered at him with narrowed eyes. "When was this decided?"

Forley shrugged. "I just assumed you would do it, whether we mentioned it or not."

Zan rolled his eyes and reached into his coat pocket. "You've gotten _very_ lucky this time. I have, in fact, been keeping a log. It doesn't go all the way back to the beginning, just to the start of last year. I keep the journal hidden between the slats under my bed where Tiba can't find it; but I had a feeling Zamiel would want to see it tonight."

Indeed, Zamiel looked very relieved. "For the sake of hearing the number and how its changed, perhaps you could tell us of your progress this year."

"I'd be happy to," Zan agreed proudly, jumping to his feet. "I did all the math a few weeks ago, in time for the new year. On average, we managed to save eleven people each month; late summer was the busy month, with more than twenty people saved. I could break the averages down further, but I won't bore you with that. The average says 124 people all year, but the actual number is closer to 150."

Looking very proud, Zamiel said, "You've done well, then. You four know I had my doubts about your crusading by night. It was by no means part of my design, and your stunts with magic still make me faint when they make the headlines. I'm glad to see that my anger and frustration with you was poorly placed. You've aided us enormously, and am happy to have your help."

Vivi giggled and grinned back at him. "Thanks for noticing, mister leader-man. We told you we could take care of it."

"Yes, so you did," Zamiel agreed, unable to be cross with her this time. "I've a last truly serious question, for the officers present. Which of you fine men and women plan to attend this ball of ours?"

Every officer in the room raised his or her hand, and Zamiel didn't seem surprised. He did seem surprised, however, when an extra raised hand caught his eye.

"…Star, what do you mean by this?" he demanded, fear and anger mixing in his voice. "The invitation is for Central Control officers only, you know that. You can't come with us."

"But I can," she insisted. "The queen said so herself, on the radio. Officers are invited to bring their partners if they wish."

Zan crossed his arms and snorted. "I don't wish it."

"Well I do," Star retorted. "And if Zan and I aren't partners, I don't know what we are. So, in a way, I _am_ invited."

Zamiel blinked at her in astonishment. "Oh," he sighed after a moment, rubbing his face tiredly. "I had half hoped you had forgotten about that…"

"Zamiel," Zan pleaded, "tell her no. Tell her this is madness, and she can't go with us. Do it quickly, while there's still time, please."

"I don't care for it either," Zamiel grumbled. "But once your birthday passes, I suppose I won't be able to stop you from doing anything. And I suppose you will like that very much."

Star just beamed back at him in response. She could feel her mother gazing warily after her, and Alanis' disapproving frown, but neither could move her enough to back down. As it was, the other officers were all nodding and murmuring amongst themselves in what appeared to be approval.

"The child has enormous skill," one of them commented. "And deep magic is in her, too. We've all seen it."

"Yes, agreed," said another. "And the child of the Earth Titan, wielding his talisman, no less. Zamiel, think of it. Her help will be a gift from the heavens on that night."

"If the power of the Earth is with us, how can we fail?" added a third. "Not as though any mortal man could stand alone against the Titan of Fire, anyway. I daresay, Star of Rin is the only person in all our lands who could do what will have to be done."

The gathering was chattering enthusiastically about this idea; but it had struck a distant chord in Star's mind. All at once, she remembered when she used to think of her future and destiny often, and how it had sometimes frightened her. Because her parents were both so magical, she used to wonder if she might be one of those rare, enormously important people who grew up to change the world. The most important of them all, even; more important than anyone would ever be again.

The thought had always bothered her, filled her with fear that she wouldn't live up to her own destiny, and so she had always tried not to think of it. Most of the time she succeeded. Now that she was so busy with the rebellion, it was easier than ever to push the notion away. But with Central Control officer suddenly looking to her and her skills to break impossible walls and win their rebellion…

Perhaps that enormous destiny had finally found her. Perhaps it had been chasing her from the moment she had left Rin, and had at last caught up with her. And instead of being frightened, she found that she was strong and brave enough now to face it, accept it, and feel proud and honored that she had been chosen to carry it.

Someone had raised his hand, waving to get Zamiel's attention. The young man was a potter's apprentice, who had developed an early case of arthritis in his hands. He had been coming to Bhlai House for years for his medicine. He had also been coming to Bhlai House for these meetings since the very first one had been held.

"I have a question for you, now, oh fearless leader," he said boldly. "And I think I speak for several people here, too. What are your plans for after the ball?"

Zamiel scratched his head. "Well, there won't be much of an after party, that's for sure. Whatever happens, we'll have left a terrible mess behind us. Someone will have to clean it up."

"Exactly."

Now Zamiel raised his eyebrow. "I think I know where you're going with this, Galart. Come out and say it, already."

Taking a deep breath, Galart did as he was asked. "When all is said and done, the queen will be dead; there is nothing else to be said about that. She will leave behind no heirs or any living family, and her court is likely to be destroyed as well. The diadem will be abandoned, and the throne will be empty. We will have no ruler. No Titan."

"This I know," Zamiel agreed. "I've thought of it several times. If I am right, however, the talisman bonds to blood – that of Noma, its first Titan. And if the legends are also correct, the royal family is not the only line that shares it. Any Zebak can claim it, even Star, here. Nearly anyone in this room could say the same."

"Which is just what I'm saying," Galart insisted. "If _any_ of us could be our next ruler, why not let it be… _You_?"

Zamiel grew very quiet, his violet eyes wide at the suggestion. Everyone else was watching him with similar looks on their faces. One or two others looked pleased to see it said out loud. Star and Zan exchanged a look, not sure what to think or how to feel.

Zamiel as the next king? As the next Titan of Fire? Star supposed it made perfect sense. At the same time, it was strange to think of.

"You should do it," someone said over the noise. "Who around here would argue with that? We'd back you, one hundred percent."

Still looking unsure, Zamiel scanned the faces before him, trying to find one he trusted in this moment.

"…Zeel, what do you think of this?" he asked.

Surprised by happy to be called on, Zeel thought for a moment and answered, "You would let me and my own return to the west, and proceed to never wage war on us again. That is what matters most to me, my dear. In any case, you have such a heart for your people, and your knack for making plans is legendary – this city will need both when all is said and done. I believe you will make a fine king, Zamiel. If only I planned to stay here, I would be happy to call you my ruler."

Zamiel smiled his thanks and looked around again. "…Keids, what do you think of this?"

Keids huffed to himself. "I think ye ain't thinkin' o' de whole lot," he answered. "Ye want de throne, de crown, ye want all de powers dat be, an' I don' blame ye. Right purty it all be to a young man's eye. But dis here throne an' crown, dey ain't like others. Dey come wit' a price, dey do. Ye take de diadem o' all dem Dragon Lords, an' ye b'come one, yerself – Titan o' Fire, like all 'em a'fore ye. Ye can't 'scape it. Think on dat fer a bit, 'fer ye go a'grabbin' at de stars."

"So what?" Galart nearly demanded. "That doesn't really matter, does it? King is king, and who else has earned it more than our leader? Besides, who else could do it? You?"

"Don' ye tempt a poor ol' fool, lad," Keids replied, a warning edge in his voice. "De deep magic o' all 'em waters, she suit ol' Keids right fine, she do. De throne? Ha! Right curse, I says. Y'all keep yer throne an' orders and diadem to yerselves."

"Our city will need rebuilding, in more ways than one," Thora put in. "Doing away with slavery and walls and Central Control as we have always known them will not happen overnight, you know. Our part of the world would change drastically under your care, because you are a good man who plans to set things right. If you are to succeed at that, you need to start thinking about it now."

Zamiel was nodding slowly over all of this helpful advice. "For certain, I shall. For all I had accounted for, I hadn't planned on being asked so casually to be a king. I feel we should have the rest of the rebellion's voice on it, if we can; but if it is, in fact, the will of my people, then I suppose I can't turn it down."

Someone scoffed and said, "You're too modest, Zamiel. The whole city will offer you the throne in an instant! You would be mad not to accept it. And the boy is right – who else is fit for it? You know it will be handed to you on a platter. You should just _take_ it."

Another elder nodded her head in agreement. "When the universe sends you a gift, you don't ponder its purpose, or demand to know why it was sent or why you were chosen. You merely accept it and do your best with it."

"We will discuss this in depth another time," Zamiel said at last. "I already have many gifts to be thankful for, and to use as best I can. If my destiny is to be king, as well, I will accept it with gladness; but there is still much to come between now and then. Let's not get excited over things that haven't happened yet."

Much of the crowd groaned in disappointment, but Star felt strangely relieved that the discussion was over. If she didn't know any better, she would say that Zamiel didn't want to be king, no matter how badly his people did. Perhaps he agreed with Keids, that the magic that came with the throne was more than great power was worth.

Or perhaps he was sharing Star's sudden sensation that it would simply never come to pass.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Of course, one of you has already guessed what will come to pass. Shh. Don't tell anyone. ;D

A sneak peek at the next chapter: _ball gowns and dancing lessons._ 8D


	9. Chapter 8: Making Preparations

_Chapter 8: Making Preparations_

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"It's never going to happen."

It was Alanis who had spoken so abruptly, startling the rest of her family. She had been sullen for a long time, ever since her cousin had decided to go the ball and refused to listen to her. Now, as they all sat together on the third floor, taking Star's measurements and talking of the previous night's meeting, she had chosen to speak boldly for the first time in weeks. All eyes were on her now, no doubt to her grim pleasure.

"What on earth are you talking about, my dear?" Forley asked gently, unwinding a measuring tape for his sister. "Of course Zamiel will be made king."

Leah cleared her throat, interrupting her brother. "He didn't like Galart jumping to conclusions, though," she pointed out. "The boy just went about assuming things, and so did many other people. Zamiel is looking forward to being a free man; but everyone last night suddenly decided to shackle him to a throne without even asking what he wanted."

"Never assume anything," Star recalled in a low voice. "It makes an ass of you and me, both."

Forley did a poor job of hiding his laughter behind his hand, and Leah looked at her sharply. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

"From an old friend, a long time ago, now," Star answered with a shrug. "But you see what it means, don't you?"

Leah sighed faintly and went back to her measuring. "Yes, I suppose I do."

Huffing to herself, Alanis began to pace and said, "Well, it's certainly made an ass of all of them, because I'm telling you, it's never going to happen."

"You've already said that, lovely," Forley drawled. "Would you care to explain?"

Alanis stopped her pacing to frown at him. "Do I really have to? I mean, it's obvious, isn't it?"

The brother and sister shrugged faintly and gazed at her curiously, not at all sure what she meant. Star knew at once what Alanis meant; and she knew that her cousin knew that she knew. She thought briefly of saying it for herself, but then felt the medallion warm sedately against her skin. She chose to keep her thoughts to herself, let Alanis be smart and wise for a change, instead of being proud of her own knowledge.

And so Alanis groaned in aggravation and carried on, "You know Rowan? My brother? Who is he?"

Leah squinted at her in confusion. "…The Earth Titan?"

Alanis came to stand above her, and then leaned down into her face. "And what is his element?"

Leah opened her mouth to answer and then hesitated, and Star could see that she understood.

"Earth," she answered quietly, her face growing red. "His element is Earth."

Humming in amusement, Zeel looked up from her book and added, "What about Mithren, my adopted brother? He is the Air Titan now. Guess what his element might be."

"Air," Leah mumbled, her face growing redder and redder. "I know this, because da told me so."

"You can't forget the Keeper of the Crystal, then," Star put in helpfully. "He is the Water Titan, and his element is – "

"Water, yes, I see now," Leah snapped, poking Star's leg deliberately with a pin. "The lot of you have made your point. A Titan's element should match their magic. I know, I know, I had only forgotten. What does that have to do with Zamiel, though?"

Forley shook his head at her. "Everything, now that we are thinking of it. He _can't_ be the Fire Titan – his element is Water. You've borrowed his Water stone to practice with in the past, don't you remember?"

"And to be sure, he's already thought of it for himself," Alanis concluded, resuming her pacing. "Of course he has, the way he plots and plans things all day. He knows it will never be, even if the throne _is_ offered to him on a platter."

Leah frowned slightly, as she jotted down measurements in a notebook. "But he said last night that their talisman bonds with a bloodline which all Zebak share. He said it should bond to any one of them."

"A generalization on his part," Alanis dismissed, waving it away. "Don't get me wrong, of course. I'm not one to doubt the old tales; so if this talisman is said to bond with blood which all its people carry, then I believe it. I won't even question it, for I have been taught better. I just also know that the talisman of _Fire_ , will only bond with a man or woman of _Fire_. That is simple nature, not legend."

Forley began to chuckle to himself. "So Zeel, Zan, even our small Zizi are all fair game; but the one we've pinned all our hopes on has been the opposite of what we need all along. Funny how things can change all at once, isn't it?"

"Well, I don't find it funny," Leah retorted. "And don't even say such things of my Zizi. Make yourself useful and wind up the measuring tape, I'm done with it now."

Even as he did as his sister told him, Forley was making his thoughtful face again. "It seems a wonder that Alanis and Zamiel are the only ones who've noticed this so far. Everyone last night behaved as if they perhaps didn't know it at all. Even the elders, who are wiser and remember the old ways, thought nothing of it."

"More of us remember the old ways than you would think, Forley," Star said to him. "The idea never felt right to me, and Zan agreed he felt the same. The only reason we didn't remember right away was because the meeting was still going on, and our attention was all over the room. I'm sure there were many more who knew it, too; I just don't understand why they didn't speak up."

"It's a problem," Zeel lamented from her chair. "Fewer and fewer people believe or even understand the ways of deep magic anymore. Elders are giving up their hope in it, and so youngsters aren't learning it from them. They don't realize that a person's element can mean a great deal in moments like this. They take it for granted. They forget to listen. It's already been taken from the Arin; and see how long it's taking for them to learn it again! Now it's happening to my people, too. It makes my heart very sore."

The rest of them thought quietly about that for a moment. Then Alanis shook herself and went back to her grumbling. "And of course Zamiel didn't dare mention it right away. Not when everyone was enjoying themselves, and suddenly so hopeful. I can't imagine he likes deceiving them like this, but I could see, too, that there was nothing else to do. Speaking frankly of magic, when many people don't even believe it, would only cause friction right now."

"I agree," said Forley. "Especially with the ball a countable number of weeks away, and so much hanging in the balance."

Leah sighed huffily as she pulled a packet of pins from her sewing basket. "I wish it were many more weeks away," she muttered. "I've too much work for so little time! How am I to have half a dozen people dressed for it by then?

"I thought you had a plan in place," Star pointed out. "You said so last week when you started measuring us."

"Oh, I have a plan in place – a clever one, if I do say so myself. I'm just so frustrated. I'm afraid I'll be cutting it very close, no matter how hard and fast I work. And you'll all have to figure out your masks on your own, because I've no skill with that."

"Tell me about this clever plan of yours," Star begged her. "I've been standing still like this for so long, my foot's getting itchy; and we're nowhere near finished for tonight."

Leah sighed. "I suppose it's a fair enough trade. Oh, but promise me you won't laugh, or tell the others yet."

"Okay, I promise," Star agreed, wondering why Leah was so nervous about her own work. The older girl fixed her spectacles and picked up her notebook, flipping through a few pages until she came to some tidy sketches.

"I understand gowns and suits with long tails are expected for such things here, but there's simply no time or money for it. Not with three women and four men needing to be dressed. So I've decided to cheat a bit, and make _habikule_ for each of you."

She handed her book to Star, who looked over the sketches with great interest. It was a bold choice, certainly not what the queen had in mind for her party guests. The simple shift and many skirts, wrapped and tied one atop the other, had been worn by the Zebak for thousands of years. The number of skirts had once spoken of a person's social standing, as did the materials they were made of. They were easily crafted of silk and linen for the warm months, and heavy velvet and cotton for the winter, layered for comfort and convenience. Sometimes, hidden pockets were sewn into the skirts to carry things in.

 _Habikule_ was an ingenious style of dress, and spoke volumes of the people who had invented it. However, it had become unpopular in the last few decades, as the Dragon Lords had come to favor suits and full gowns instead. The people of Habaharan, anxious not to upset their rulers, had mostly followed this fashion. Only elders, foreigners, and youngsters who found old fashioned things stylish still wore it in the city.

Star couldn't really think of a time Ofelia hadn't been bustling around in a mass of tied skirts. The woman only owned two plain _kule_ , simple long shifts of light, colored cloth; but her collection of flowing, brightly patternedskirts was something of local legend. So it was little surprise when Leah cleared her throat and continued, "Ofelia has several patterns for the _habi_ , and has lent me some of them. She's even brought me some fabric samples to look at, and offered to bring me more."

Even though she had promised not to laugh, Star began to giggle in pure delight. "This is brilliant," she said. "I've seen her whip up a new skirt in only a few hours' time. Without having to fuss over petticoats and boning and crinolines and corsets, you could be finished in a couple of weeks."

"I know, I'm pretty proud of myself, too," Leah agreed, taking the book back. "Have you seen the fabrics they make for the skirts? _Habikule_ has been so widely worn for such a long time, weavers have found a way to weave cloth in a circle. You only cut a length off the round, sew a ribbon around the top, trim and hem it up a bit, and there is a finished skirt. They have special looms for it and everything. I wish my mother could see it; she would marvel over it for days. Years, maybe."

Star smiled, trying to imagine the faces Marlie might make if Leah's wish ever came true. "So, if the skirts are so easy to make, why are you so worried? You will have plenty of time to finish your work, even if you made twenty skirts for each of us."

"It's just a matter of designs and such. Finding the right fabrics in the right colors, deciding the number of skirts, having each of you over for fittings – things like that. If I were only making these for everyday wear, it would be different. These are costumes for a masquerade ball, and so they must be a certain way. And each one is to be vastly different from the others. Getting them just right is going to take some time, and I've made very little progress so far."

Forley bent to look over his sister's shoulder at her sketches. "And you're making them to be each of their spirit animals, aren't you? Vastly different, indeed."

"I know," she answered. "Star is a bee, and Zan is a lion; Zamiel and Zaneth are a dog and a bat (and Zamiel still needs to tell me what kind of dog he wants). Zhena and Zara are a horse and a sheep. Then there is Zak, who is a squirrel, which is no great surprise to me."

Alanis grinned and puffed out her chest a bit. "I helped with figuring them all out. Zaneth and Zara were a bit of a challenge; but Zak was easy. You can see the squirrel in him from a mile away."

Forley whistled over the list. "An interesting menagerie. You should stop your fretting and just have fun with it. Let your imagination take over and do all the work for you."

Leah smiled nervously at him, clutching her book anxiously. "Everyone is counting on me to get this right. I've never done anything so important for them before, and I want to do well."

Star thought the list over, counting the squad members Leah had mentioned, and then frowned, puzzled. "Who does that leave? Zack Rivan, I know…"

"And Zane, Zirita, and Zione," Leah supplied. "Zane said he is fine; Nyoma is making his costume. Korus' girlfriend is helping Zirita, who convinced her to help Zione, too. And Zack Rivan has some money saved up, so he has employed a tailor to help him. He apologized for not thinking of me first, but I thanked him for it. Seven is enough of a crowd; I don't know if I could take on another one."

"Why don't you want the others to know about your cleverness yet?" Alanis asked. "It's sound, and brilliant as you made it out to be. They will be completely impressed with you."

"I don't want them to think I'm being cheap, or that I'm cutting corners by doing things the easy way," Leah confessed. "They trust me to do this for them; I don't want to give hem reason to doubt me."

"I agree with Alanis," Zeel commented without looking up from her book. "And with Forley, and with Star. The others will be impressed and very pleased with you. You should also stop worrying and just enjoy yourself, as you always have when you've made clothes for us. Put your heart and strength into every snip of your scissors, into every stitch and measurement. It will give them heart and strength, too, when they most need it."

Leah gave her a bashful but grateful smile. "Thank you. I needed to hear that, I think." Pinning the hem of Star's dress in place, she continued, "People at home rarely wanted to trust my work, because of my eyes. Many of them demanded mother's help specifically, right in front of me sometimes, and it hurt terribly. She used to play a trick on them, by showing off clothing and fabrics I had made, but acting as though it were her own. Do you remember, Forley?"

"Oh, yes, I do," Forley agreed, laughing merrily at the memory. "And mother is so clever, it often fooled them perfectly. Half the time they preferred your work to hers, as long as she didn't say anything."

Leah laughed along, cheered by memories of her secret triumphs. "Well, anyway, that was our own people who refused to trust me just because of how I look and act. So when we came here and found ourselves hidden among the Zebak of all people, I was sure it would be ten times worse. I looked around recently, and realized that our supposed worst enemies trust me to do all sorts of helpful things for them. They feel they can count on me, and rarely ever question my work."

She sighed softly and went on, "I'm still getting used to people trusting me like that. Most of the time, their faith in me makes me very happy; other times, it makes me a bit sad."

Alanis scoffed. "Perhaps when we get back, the Arin will have learned to appreciate you, and all you can do. You can do quite a lot more now than you could when we left, after all."

Leah smiled and winked at her. "We both can, you know. When you return shooting fire out of your hands as though it were dust, no one will compare you to your brother or sister again. You will like that quite a lot, I think."

Leaving Alanis to think about that, she stood up and looked over her work so far. Star's _kule_ was only a simple, loose-fitting shift of silky yellow, its sleeves wide and long so that they nearly touched the floor. The hem was longer in the back than in the front and trailed behind her, but not so far that people would step on it and trip her. It had taken an afternoon to cut and pin together, and still had a lot of work to be done. And Leah plainly wasn't satisfied with how it looked on her cousin yet.

"Something to do with the sleeves," she muttered, picking up her book and sketching furiously. "I want them to be like wings, somehow. I had hoped the wide sleeves would be the right shape, but something seems to be missing…"

She snapped the book shut and went back to Star's side. "Hold still, I'm going to unpin them a bit. I have an idea that just might suit us both."

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Days passed, and Leah had finally arrived at a design she liked. She no longer needed Star to stand still for fittings, and at last moved on to her skirts. Star longed to see her cousin's progress, but she was now being very sneaky with her work. Now that the fittings were done, she wanted the finished _habikule_ to be a great surprise.

In part, that suited Star very well. She quickly found it far more fun to watch a fitting than to be the one being fitted, and it was now Zan's turn to stand still for hours while being measured and pinned into his costume. He was dry and sarcastic as always for the whole thing, and never ran out of smart remarks about how uncomfortable he was. He often found pins jabbing into his arms, legs, and sides, and not always because he couldn't stop fidgeting.

"If only you'd stop complaining, I could be done with you twice as fast," Leah scolded him when it was finished. "You were the first to want my help, you know, so a little cooperation would be quite helpful. And I thought you had been trained to stand still for hours."

"I was, but not for this," Zan whined, shrugging carefully out of his long, pin-lined tunic. "They never mentioned I might one day be held prisoner in my own clothes."

"But it does fit properly, doesn't it? Is it too tight in the shoulders?"

"No, it fits like a dream come true," he answered right away. "All your shirts do. That is an enormous feat; I can never seem to find clothes in the stores that fit quite right there. And if they do, the sleeves are always a little too long, and the collar is always a little too loose. It's a bother and a half, so I suppose I really shouldn't complain."

"No, you shouldn't," Leah agreed. "You'll be happy to know I won't bore you with the trousers, then. I've made you plenty in the past, and can just use the same pattern for this. I do believe you are free to go. How do you like it so far?"

"I like it a lot. I look forward to seeing the rest of it soon."

In a girlish, giddy way, Star was looking forward to that, too. Her Zan was already so handsome in his regular clothes, and positively strapping in his uniform. Dressed as a lion, in rich fabrics of gold and black, she knew he would be glorious, as regal as any prince. She wondered vaguely if she would faint when she finally saw it.

"Now then," Leah said to him, "I know Zamiel is pressed for spare time, so I'd like to see Zaneth next, if it's no trouble. I have to have him looking like a bat in a few weeks, so I have a lot of work to do."

Zan scoffed and brushed some stray threads off his shoulder. "You can have him," he grumbled. "In fact, you can keep him if you want to. If you can believe it, Tiba agrees with us on something – our brother is driving us all mad with his fancies, and we all wish he would go away."

Leah winced at the unpleasant news, no doubt concerned about the long fittings to come. She began to gather up her things, and Zan dashed away to sit beside Star.

"This whole business is exhausting," he complained, sprawling wearily on the couch. "But my part in it is over, so I say it's going very well. How does it look to you? It's not too ridiculous is it? You know how I hate looking like a fool in front of people."

"You won't look ridiculous at all," Star insisted. "I know it looks a little silly now, inside out and held together with pins, but it will be splendid in the end. You'll be the best dressed of the whole ball, for certain."

Looking cheered, he thankfully took her hand. "That's not possible. You'll look a thousand times better, I'm sure."

"Yes, yes," Leah sighed, "you two lovebirds will be the envy of the queen's court. Don't you have somewhere to be presently?"

"But I just sat down for the first time all day," Zan said, whining loudly again.

"Leah, can't you please cover for us for just a little while?" Star pleaded. "Thora and Simon won't let us rest until dinner; and you know that dancing isn't one of Zan's great talents."

Rolling her eyes, Leah shoved some things into her bag and slung it over her shoulder with a huff. "Okay, fine. Just for a few minutes, since I'm apparently so draining."

Those minutes passed quickly, in calm, quiet conversation about pleasant things. In what felt like no time at all, Star had to haul Zan to his feet and down the stairs. A dancing lesson was awaiting them in the first floor common room, and they had learned it didn't do to keep their teachers waiting long.

"I don't know why Thora wants to teach us so badly," he said. "I already know how to dance. I learned all the important ones at the academy, for just such an occasion as this."

"That's true enough, but I didn't," Star pointed out. "Besides, Thora will use any excuse to have you around, because she loves you. And Simon seems pleased to have some knowledge that we don't."

Zan hummed over this. "I never would have guessed it of him. When he sulks around the way he does, who would guess that he likes to dance? Or that he would be so good at it? His health would be better and his legs stronger, if he danced more often."

Star grinned at him over her shoulder. "Then let's give him a reason to."

And she was glad that Simon was a good dancer, in spite of all his weaknesses. He and his sister were teaching them dances they had never seen before. These were fine, complicated steps for the members of the queen's court, who had nothing better to do with their long, empty days. It was all the same to Star, who had never been much of a dancer; but to Zan, who had thought he was prepared, it was upsetting.

"Oh, these steps are impossible," he muttered, carefully watching his feet and narrowly missing Star's toes for a fourth time. "I don't understand why there should be so many of them."

Simon groaned impatiently, looking like he wanted the smack the young man with his cane; but he tossed it against the wall instead, and joined his sister beside them.

"What's the matter with you, boy?" he demanded. "We've taught you harder steps than this! Here, watch us and see how it's done properly. See if you can actually remember it this time, why don't you?"

So Star and Zan respectfully stood aside, and watched as the two swept gracefully through the steps. It reminded Star faintly of a chain, the way the two sets of steps wound in and out of each other across the room. They turned once, twice, and then spun apart briefly, only to step back together, turn a third time, and repeat it all from the beginning.

"There, it is as Simon said," Thora told them. "There is no reason under the sky why you can't master something this simple."

Zan scratched his head and went on marveling at the flawless dancing. "I wouldn't call this simple. You know I'm not crazy about dancing, too."

"Think of it as a challenge, then. A puzzle, even, for you've become quite good at them recently."

Zan released Star to throw his hands into the air. "I don't like those, either!" he cried, exasperated.

Star took his hands back in her own, and gently placed them back in position. "I know this is difficult for you," she said kindly. "It's new for me, too. But if it's just another puzzle, then we'll figure it together, as we've always done."

Zan sighed and shook his head in defeat as they started over. "It's this first bunch of steps that's killing me," he grumbled, pinning his eyes anxiously at his feet as he stumbled yet again. "Am I going forward? Backward? _Both_? I just can't keep it straight…"

Star thought about it for a moment as he jerked her one way and then the other against her will, and an idea came to her. "Zan… I don't think you're counting right."

"No, no, I'm sure I am. It's in four. One-two-three-four, one-two-three four – "

"Well, there's your problem. It's supposed to be one-two-three, one-two-three – "

"I'm positive it's four."

"I'm telling you, it's three."

Simon angrily hit his cane on the floor, looking disgusted with their bickering. "Consarned young fools, of course it's in three," he snapped. "No wonder you aren't together – you've been counting differently the whole time! Now we'll have to teach you both all over again!"

"That's not quite how teaching works, brother," Thora sighed, placing a restraining hand on his shoulder. "However, now that that's been straightened out I do say let's swap their places and let Star lead for a moment."

Simon grimaced. "That's hardly proper, letting the girl lead."

"It won't be for a moment. He just needs to see how it's done in the right time, and she can show him. Keep an eye on them while I check on dinner. It wouldn't do to let it burn, when we've worked so hard."

So Thora bustled off and left them under Simon's impatient watch. He scowled as the two changed positions and began to dance again, this time with Star leading. Zan looked embarrassed to be such a poor student. But, as Thora has predicted, it took only moments for him to catch on, and his face lit up with revelation.

"Three, it is," he commented. "This is completely different! Forgive me, Star, for all the trouble I've caused."

"Think nothing of it," she insisted. "Think you're ready to switch back now?"

"Yes, I think so. Let's try it."

And so they changed positions again, and Zan took the lead. Though it still wasn't perfect, the steps were much easier, and he didn't stumble once. Still watching them silently, Simon seemed pleased to finally see some progress.

They turned a last time and continued dancing, and it was almost graceful. Now that it was settled, they felt comfortable enough to try speaking at the same time.

"It's incredible what one number can change," Zan commented.

"Little things can have enormous power," Star agreed.

"I really am sorry about the counting. I was so sure… I'm just so sorry."

"Like I said, don't worry about it. If you think _that_ was bad, you should watch my grandfather trying to dance. He only knows one well, just enough to dance with his wife when the Travelers visit every other year. Mum tried once to teach him a new one, and gave up right away."

Zan made a face. "That bad, huh? So, I can do something that Strong John can't. That's exciting, I suppose."

Star laughed. "Trust me, there are many things you can do that he can't. I'd say you could teach him a thing or two, except that he's a terrible student and wouldn't take to any of it."

"A better fighter than a dancer, huh?"

"You have no idea."

With that, they spun apart, and then back together for the last turn. Then they were beginning again for the third time, and the steps were coming easier and easier.

"Star, remember the first time we danced?"

"Oh, yes. It was on your birthday last year."

"No, no, the _first_ time. It was at one of the earlier meetings; not the first one, because your leg was broken then. But the second or third one, I think, you had finally healed; and so you danced with nearly everyone."

"I remember now! I can't believe I forgot so easily. I think I even danced with Simon that night… Simon, we've danced at the meetings before, haven't we?"

Simon tried to scowl harder, to hide how his face had grown so red. "Keep your eyes on your partner, young lady," he scolded instead of answering, causing them to laugh lightly at his stubborn bad mood.

"I'm going to take that as a yes," Star decided. "I'm also going to say, you were a much better partner."

"I should hope so, I worked hard to pass those dancing classes."

"Well, it shows."

Zan sighed, and he slowed a bit as he became lost in thought. "I guess I never cared for dancing because it was always made to be such a chore. But it's always been different with you. When I'm dancing with you, it's not for a grade, and it's not pretend. It's just… Nice."

They spun apart and back together, but this time he didn't lead them back into the dance. Instead, she found him holding her close and rocking her back and forth in a simple slow dance.

"This is so nice," he said quietly. "I can't believe how much I hated this a few minutes ago."

Star couldn't help grinning at him. "I told you we'd figure it out together. That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"No, it wasn't. I should have just listened to you."

"Duck, my Lion Man. There will be a new dance to learn tomorrow."

"Then we'll figure that one out, too. And next time, I'll just trust you with the counting. After all, I can always _count_ on you."

Star laughed so hard, she let her head fall against his shoulder. She couldn't recall how many times her father, ever so clever with words, had teased her with puns just like that. It brought on a wave of memories of her girlhood, and for a split second she felt terribly homesick. She suddenly longed to hear her father's voice, laughing and telling jokes like he used to. She longed for it more than she had for anything in quite some time, so that it ached uncomfortably in her heart.

But it passed in a flash, and bright hope filled the place that longing had left behind. Those memories were still precious to her, and often inspired her as much as they pained her. If all went well in the next few weeks, her people could make happy memories like her own. Their sons and daughters could live their lives as they pleased, without fear of enslavement. Fathers with their minds at peace could embarrass their children with terrible jokes of their own. Mothers like hers would smile and laugh and roll their eyes, as they prepared meals and washed dishes in homes they owned, with things they owned, because no one would own them.

She sighed at the thought. "Think of all the small moments like this we can share in the future," she said quietly.

To her surprise, Zan grew tense and held her tighter. "Or these stupid dancing lessons could be last moments like this we have…"

Oh, just like him to be so grim, she thought. She looked up at him and said, "You're really upset about this whole thing, aren't you?"

"I've never been so afraid in my whole life. I'm terrified. And I suppose I won't be able to relax until it's all over and done – for good or ill."

"Don't worry, it _will_ end for good," she insisted. "I know it in my heart. I don't even need the sigil to tell me that. If there's any one thing I know for sure, it's that good always wins the day. It just takes a while, sometimes."

Zan shrugged and shook his head. "Well, if you've already decided this, then I suppose I must be true. You can't lie, after all."

"That's more like it," she agreed, playfully smacking his shoulder. "Just trust me: everything will be fine in the end, even if…"

"…Even if what?"

"Even if we don't get to see it," she finished slowly. You're right, I can't lie; so I can't deny that the odds are dangerous."

Zan made a face, between hopeful and nervous. "So you'll finally listen to us and stay home?"

"No, not at all. I keep telling you, I've made my choice. And I'm not afraid to die. None of us are. That makes me and you and all of us a least as dangerous as the queen, herself, who is certainly not afraid of that."

It was plain to see that Zan was disappointed, and that her plainly speaking of death had unsettled him; but at the same time, there was enormous relief in his violet eyes. He still didn't care for it, but he grown used to the idea that Star would be with him that night. They made a formidable team, and at least he wouldn't be alone in a crowd of strangers.

All the same, he anxiously took her face in his hands and stared deep into her eyes. "Promise me you _won't_ die."

"Just as long as you promise me that _you_ won't die."

"That's fair enough," he sighed. "I promise."

"I promise, too," she grinned.

"What's all this, then?"

They looked up to see that Thora had returned, and was glancing from them to her brother in confusion.

"Simon, I thought I told you to watch them," she said sharply. "What, did you doze off? They must have been doing very well, then."

Startled by his sister's sudden return, Simon straightened himself and tried to look as grouchy as usual. "Of course I was watching them," he snapped back. "And they were doing extremely well under my expert tutelage, thank you very much."

Thora sniffed, unimpressed by his bold claim. "Then I'd say they've earned a break. I need help in the kitchen presently, as it happens. We can take turns promising each other that we won't die, while we get some real work done. Then, when all that's done, I'd like to see them dancing 'extremely well', if you won't mind."

"That won't be any trouble at all," Zan informed her as he followed her into the kitchen. "I'm finally getting the hang of this one."

As Star was going after them, Simon caught her by the wrist and pulled her back a bit forcefully. She stared back him in mild fright. He had only ever touched her once or twice in all this time, and he was frowning severely at her. Her mind scrambled for something inappropriate she had said or done in the last few minutes.

Still frowning, he paused for a moment before grumbling, "You're… Not such a bad student, for an Arin girl."

Star's eyes grew wide, and she touched her hand to her heart. "Simon, that is the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she exclaimed. "Thank you."

Then his grizzled face grew red again, and he shooed her away. "Get out of here, girl; this mushiness is unbecoming of a young lady. Show some self-control, for goodness sake! Go on, my sister needs you."

Still smiling to herself, Star trotted into the kitchen, where Thora was mumbling that she hadn't heard words like "mushiness" since she had been a youngster, herself. She was asking Zan if young people still used that word, and he was shaking his head in puzzlement.

But Star was too busy to think much of it. Her whole mind was taken up with the happy knowledge that Simon was finally okay with her. With that on top of the fittings and the dancing lessons, today was definitely a triumph.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I think I had a birthday at some point between this and the last update…

Oh, wait, yes I did! In fact, this is the THIRD one I've had since I began posting _Star's Journey_. FOURTH since I began working on it. I only plan to have one more before I finish. ;D

I'm sorry for the filler chapter, but I hope it was fluffy yet real enough to satisfy you for now. The next one has a major plot twist in it. 8D


	10. Chapter 9: The Dinner Party

_Chapter 9: The Dinner Party_

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Only two weeks remained before the dreaded ball. Preparations all around the city were going well, in the people's minds; and Leah had taken her brother's advice to heart, fretting less about her work and enjoying the challenge. Then, quite suddenly, Zan came trudging into the bakery one afternoon with more unsettling news.

"The good general is forcing my brothers and I to join him for dinner," he told Star indignantly. "Tonight."

Star stared back at him in shock. "When was this decided?" she demanded.

"Today, apparently. Since we have this night off from watch, he said."

"But why?"

Zan shrugged helplessly. "To pretend to check in on my brother's pretend engagement, I suspect. We've been careful – overly careful, as always – and I can't imagine Tiba's found anything to link us directly with the rebellion. All the same, I'm certain my master is on to us. He wouldn't have set her to guard us in the first place if he didn't."

Star had to clasp her hands to keep them from shaking with nerves. "What do you think he really plans to do to you tonight?"

"Not a clue. I'm prepared for many things, a pleasant dinner with the family being the last of them…"

Then he steeled himself and stood as straight and tall as he could, a stern look masking his fear remarkably well.

"But he won't get the truth out of us, no matter what he does," he said resolutely.

Those were fine, bold words, spoken with all the real courage in his noble heart. But Star made a face as a terrible thought crossed her mind.

"What about me?" she asked quietly. "Tiba knows about us, and so for sure Lord Azan does, as well. What if he were to threaten me to make you talk?"

Startled, Zan leaned against the counter and bowed his head in sorrow. A terrible pause settled between them. Star ended it by touching his face, and drawing his gaze up to meet her own.

"You know you can't crack if that happens," she told him firmly. "If worse comes to worse, I will handle the consequences on my own. I will simply have to, because the truth is bigger than either one of us. Promise me you won't give our people up just for my sake. Promise me, Zan."

Zan sighed, shaking his head. "You don't understand what they will do to you," he pointed out. "They will destroy you in all the worst ways. They will make up new ways to torture you, if they think it might make me talk."

That was an awful idea, and Star knew that he was right. She couldn't fathom what horrors would be waiting for her, if that fear came to pass. She chose to use that oblivion to her advantage, and go on being foolishly brave.

"Then make sure they know that it _won't_ change your mind," she told him. "Perhaps then they will abandon the whole idea, or at least be less cruel to me."

Zan slammed his fists on the counter. "That's hardly an 'at least' situation," he nearly shouted. "Stop putting such horrible thoughts into my head. Tonight will be difficult enough, without being terrified of something happening to you."

"I'm sorry," she answered, rubbing her arms and feeling awful for upsetting him. "But it's important to me. I know thousands of officers have done terrible things willingly, under such threats; it's why you're your squadron willingly kidnaped my mother, remember? I just needed to know. I'm sorry for testing you like that."

Zan made a face at her and crossed his arms "So, did I pass your test?"

Star thought about it, then shrugged and made a dismissive noise. "…Well, you didn't fail…"

He took her hands in his own and smiled weakly. "I wouldn't have failed," he told her. "Of course I wouldn't betray our mission for one person – even if that one person was you, or any of our friends. It was just so difficult to have to say out loud, I couldn't get the words out. Knowing it in your heart is one thing; admitting it out loud is sometimes very different."

"I'm proud of you for doing it, then," she answered. "I know it must have taken all your strength. It takes much of mine to say… Well, that I would do the same for you." She grimaced and said, "My goodness, that _is_ difficult. Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything at all."

"Perhaps," Zan agreed vaguely. "But what's said is said, and you are right. It matters to us both, and deserves a moment's thought. I don't know what is going to happen tonight, Star. So many things could happen. Most of them are unpleasant…"

"But suppose the general really is just pretending to have an interest in the engagement. Suppose he really is just inviting you to dinner to, I don't know, make you even more uncomfortable? For his own amusement? He's done this to you for years, after all. What then?"

Plainly, Zan hadn't thought very hard about this. So, thinking it over, he said slowly, "Then, I suppose we will have a stiff, quiet dinner – the kind with far too many spoons and forks and you don't know what they're all for, and it sets you on edge because the host certainly knows and is judging you for your not knowing. The general will likely try to loosen our tongues with wine, and possibly with drugs, which we will politely decline for reasons we will decide on before-hand. There will be bland conversation, but a great many dangerous questions that have nothing to do with the marriage, which we will all answer with complete lies. He might also arrange for my brother to have to dance with his stupid fiancée, to a pompous private chamber band; he could force the rest of us to dance with her, too, which I hope and pray doesn't happen."

Star listened in silence, nodding her head as he spoke. All of these suggestions sounded typical to her, just as dinner at Zared Azan's house ought to be. In an odd way, though, she couldn't help but be thrilled by it. As awful as it would be, the idea of private bands and too many forks sounded so… Grand. She hoped Zan's brilliant mind would never stop, because he was painting an awkward, glorious picture in her own.

"And then what?" she asked.

"And then… I suppose once Azan exhausts himself, my brothers and I will be shown to the door, handed our belongings, and finally be allowed to leave. Huh… It would be a strained evening, to be sure, but it doesn't sound half bad. Not compared to the other things you and I have imagined. At least in this case, there will be good food and drink. Finer than I've probably ever eaten in my life. That will be something."

Star sighed, sad that his imaginings had come to an end. "Well, I hope it is just dinner, then, and that it is the finest you've ever eaten. For ourselves, it will be the usual fare – although Thora's also making her shredded pork tonight."

Zan snapped his head up with what appeared to be horror in his eyes. "That pork with the spicy mustard sauce and the vanilla-scented rice?"

"That sounds like it shouldn't go together, but does perfectly? Yes, the very same," Star agreed with a shrug.

Zan groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands. "I can't believe it! That's my very favorite thing she makes, and I have to miss it for _this_? It's not fair! Surely, it must be illegal, somehow."

Laughing lightly at his despair, she came around the counter and gave him a hug. "We'll make sure to set a portion aside for you. Maybe even two. It comes to me that in the general's house, you may lose your appetite altogether, in which case you'll be starved when you get back."

Zan huffed to himself as he put his arms around her. "So much for the finest I've ever eaten," he grumbled. "I'd rather be with all of you at Bhlai House, eating the usual fare, any day. I will miss all of you tonight."

"And we will miss you. We will be thinking of you and your brothers, too, and pray for your safety. Perhaps, if you aren't home too late, you will join Forley and Vivi and I on a Crusading mission."

Zan smiled at the idea, but shook his head. "There is that crooked money lender in Eastside. I would like to get my hands on that thieving scoundrel… Oh, but don't wait up on me; not when anything could happen. The three of you just do what we do best. I know you'll all be great. And careful. Star, please be careful."

"I always am," she grinned. "We'll show that money lender what happens when one cheats our people. We'll do it for you."

He smiled back and kissed her forehead. "You have a way of putting my heart at ease, as easily as you fill it with worries. What am I to do with you?"

"Just keep me, that's all I ask," she answered, hugging him a last time. "I know that tonight is uncertain, but it's going to be fine. Trust me."

"How can you know that?"

And, knowing his own words far too well, he spoke with Star as she answered:

"I just do."

"I should have seen that coming," he said vaguely. "And I do trust you. I'm just…"

"Afraid?"

"A little… A lot. It will be so strange and lonely, without you beside me. But if you say it will be fine… Star, is there any way you can promise this won't be the last time I see you?"

Feeling more and more ashamed for upsetting him so badly, she dared to pull the Earth Sigil from under her clothes. She took his hand and pressed the gold medallion into his palm, closing his fingers around it, then closing hers around them.

" _He is so afraid,"_ she said silently. " _And I have only added to it, because of my own fears, even though I knew it was selfish. I didn't think of it in the moment, but I knew it in my heart. Please, give him the truth. It will comfort him more than anything I could say or do right now."_

As if proud of her humble confession, the Sigil flared with gentle warmth in their hands, and Star could see its soft aura glowing through their fingers. A feeling of calm, and a certainty that all would be well filled them both. Star wondered fleetingly if it would have been rude to ask something more specific; and in return for her love, courage, and politeness, she was gifted with a short, silent vision.

She saw herself, just as she was now, sprinting past the kitchen clock and calendar in Thora's kitchen – it was just eleven o'clock that very same day. She saw Vivi beating her to the front door, throwing it open, and pouncing on the person outside. She saw that it was Zan, just back from his stupid dinner party and still in his nicest clothes. She saw that he was unharmed as he spun Vivi around in the middle of the street, happier than ever to see her cheeky face. She saw him set the girl down, rush through the door, and take her next into his arms, both of them grinning as they shared a few words.

There the vision ended, and the sensation of deep magic withdrew from them as suddenly as it had filled them. They found themselves sagging against each other, both feeling empty and weak all at once, struggling to hold one another upright. But at the same time, Star found that Zan was laughing to himself, and she knew without a doubt that he had seen the vision, too.

And so he was overjoyed for several reasons, each one as wonderful as the last. Star couldn't help laughing along with him.

"There, you see?" she said as they leaned against the counter. "Whatever happens tonight, everything really will be fine. This will be far from the last time we meet. You'll even be back in time to stop that crooked old money lender with us."

Zan rubbed his neck, the way he always did when he felt foolish. "I worked myself up over absolutely nothing, it seems. The only real tragedy is missing Thora's shredded pork, after all."

"And thank the heavens for that," she insisted, gripping his hand as firmly as her strength allowed.

"Yes, indeed," he agreed. "Thank you for sharing that with me. I needed it. I will see you later tonight, then."

"Yes, it appears you certainly will. We'll have leftovers and a change of clothes ready and waiting for you. And I hope you find something at dinner worth enjoying."

Zan smiled, but rolled his eyes. "I will do my best. But without you there, it might not be possible."

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And so it was that Star spent her evening lurking around on the first floor of Bhlai House, waiting for her vision to fulfill itself. It was self-fulfilling, in a way; this vision had shown her all she needed to know, and all she had asked for. She knew when Zan would be back, for instance, and that it was in fact this night and not some similar occasion. And no wonder the vision of Vivi had beaten her to the door, and then jumped with all her confidence on the person outside – she knew now who would be there, and when, and why.

Star knew how precarious the future could be. Her father had warned her well of it before, from his own misadventures with time and space. He had found that a vision might bring a sign or a warning, and many things could be quite different when he had arrived at those moments. Sometimes, small things he had done in the time between had caused the moment of his vision to change in one way or another. Other times, he had tried valiantly to change the future when a vision hadn't been to his liking – only for his own actions to fulfill the prophecy in spite of his efforts.

In some ways, he had all the control in the world over the future. In others, he had no control at all. He had told her once that the best way to deal with time was to carry on as usual, thinking as little of future visions as possible, and to never fight against it. The universe would work its will, with or without her, and always for good. That brought her a great deal of comfort during those lessons, because a gift as fickle as foresight had seemed frightening and frustrating to her. What was the point of knowing the future, if everything you did to face it worked against you? What good was it, but to annoy you, and make you doubt your own senses?

As she tidied up the kitchen, she wondered if she should have told her family that Zan would be returning late that night. She had explained what had happened, as they had enjoyed their dinner, and promised that he would be alright. When they had asked how she knew it, and she had answered, "I just do," as always, they had accepted it and asked no further questions. But now she wondered if she had accidentally changed the future by simply doing the right thing.

"But he'll be back to go out with us, right?" Vivi had asked right away.

"Yes," Star had nodded. "He should be back well before midnight."

Long about nine o'clock, Star had stuck her head out of the kitchen to find Vivi lounging boredly on the last two steps of the staircase, watching the door like a well-trained guard dog, ready to jump on Zan the moment he arrived. So, in that way, the future was moving along just as she had been shown.

Star had nearly taken her hair down after dinner, to brush and tie it up for Crusading later. She had anxiously decided against it, for the vision had shown her looking as she had all day. She wondered if there was any meaning to that, but decided not to wonder too hard.

After that, she had realized the only part of the vision that really mattered was that it showed Zan returning with a smile on his face, and that it would happen this very night. Whatever details she happened to change at Bhlai House would have no impact on what was happening in general Azan's dining room. She could start a brawl with her cousins, and it would make no difference in the world. Anything she changed wouldn't cause a disaster for Zan and his brothers, and it wouldn't cause their master to release them even one second sooner.

That was an absurd relief. If she had somehow changed their future, on this of all nights, she would have never forgiven herself. Now, she could just amuse herself with whatever filled her own life until Zan came home, and then they could carry on as normal.

It was ten o'clock when Star came out to check on Vivi again. The girl had found a book, and was flipping through it while she waited. Star sat on the steps beside her and tried to peek at the book's title.

"Have you been at the library again?" she asked. "Porii says you visit often these days."

"Oh, you know, I'm in and out," Vivi answered with a shrug. "Learning stuff isn't as bad as I thought it would be."

"What are you learning about today? Is it part of your lessons?"

"Nah, its own stuff. Interpenent reading, I guess."

"I think you mean _independent_ ," Star corrected. "So, what's struck your fancy, then?"

"Nothing," Vivi insisted, shying away and hiding the book cover with her arms. "Honestly, you people ask way too many questions around here. Where're ya goin'? Whatcha doin'? Did you take those cookies? It goes on and on and on, I tell you."

Star snatched the book out of her hands, more and more curious about what she was hiding. Her heart sank at the cover. _"A Pictured History of the Dragon Lord's Diadem,"_ it read. The book was filled with beautiful illustrations of the diadem, and portraits of kings and queens passed who had worn it. Star sighed and shook her head.

"You still haven't given up on this?" she demanded, shoving the book back into Vivi's hands. "Really, can't you see that it's pure and utter madness?"

Vivi huffed and crossed her arms defensively. "There you go again, asking all the questions. Well, what if I _have_ given it up, and I've just got really curious? Did you ever think of that? No, you only think about yourself."

"You know," Star said gently, "someone's bound to notice that all the same books are always checked out. Books on the diadem, and the Dragon Lords, and the layout of the palace grounds. If that person has any sense, they will put two and two together and realize that _someone_ is plotting to steal it. They will ask the librarians who it is, and they will have to show them their records. That alone will doom you in an instant."

Vivi scoffed and stuck out her chest. "Who would notice something dumb like that?" she demanded.

"A Central Contol officer just might."

"I only check out one or two at a time now. More than that is a pain to lug all the way home. Who would really notice? They'd have to be looking for trouble."

Remembering how useless it was to argue with her young friend, Star gave up at last. "You really do think of everything, don't you? Fine, study what you will. Just be careful when you do."

"Of course I will be. I'm always careful."

Star was tempted to point out the one time she hadn't been careful, and how it had nearly cost her little brother's freedom. But she restrained herself, knowing that it wouldn't do to raise the girl's dander any more than it already was. Better to just let her have fun planning her heist of a lifetime. Vivi had enough sense of her own not to carry it out, no matter how perfect it was.

 _I just have this habit of upsetting people today_ , she thought sadly. _What is wrong with me? Of course I'm worried, and its only growing stronger as the ball grows nearer. I'm more nervous than ever lately, but that's no reason to take it out on my friends. They have worries of their own to battle._

Resolving to guard her tongue, Star stood up and went back to the kitchen. Finding nothing left to clean or put away, she made herself tea and drank it with a biscuit. Her vision would be coming to pass soon, and then it would be time to go Crusading again. She would need her strength and energy about her.

To keep from glancing warily at the clock, she sat facing away from it and slowly drank her tea. From time to time she would glance over her shoulder at it anyway, certain that the hour had nearly passed; and each time she was disappointed. Still, the clock's long hand was a little nearer each time, and increasingly difficult not to think about.

The hour struck eleven, and the clock chimed so abruptly in the stillness that Star jumped to her feet. Surely there would be a knock on the door at any moment. It was nearly crushing when that long-awaited knocking never drowned out those tones. The clock finished striking and Star sank back into her chair, furiously trying to recall exactly how long past eleven the clock in her vision had shown. Slightly past, she remembered, but she couldn't quite picture it…

At last, the sound she had been waiting for broke into her anxious thoughts. Someone was at the front door, and Star was racing from the kitchen just as she had known she would. She immediately saw Vivi throwing the door open ahead of her, cackling with glee; outside, she could hear all three of the Garased brothers exclaiming and laughing over her greeting.

"Where have you been? Vivi was demanding. "You were supposed to be back well before midnight! Do you know how close to midnight it is?"

Peering out the door, Star watched as Zan picked the girl up and spun her around, just like in the vision. "I wouldn't have gone anywhere if I'd had my way," he informed her as he set her back on her feet. "I'll try to be less tardy next time, little one."

He rushed past her into the house and caught Star in his arms at once – again, just as he had in the vision. Though it had been silent, its last clue had shown them speaking to each other. There had been anxiety in their faces, but mostly just gladness to see each other, and relief that the diner was over with. Now, at last, they would learn what those words were destined to be, and the vision would have come full circle.

What words would they be? It felt like they should be moving and beautiful and filled with hope. Instead, Star found herself blurting out the most urgent thought in her mind.

"So, everything's alright?"

Zan grinned and nodded. "Yes, we're fine. No one was threatened, or beaten, or imprisoned as I had feared. We ate and drank and danced, and the three of us weren't even questioned. Our master spoke of the weather, and another general who's irritated him, and some fortifications for the wall. He showed off a hunting trophy of his father's, placed there in the dining room. It was… Just a diner party."

Star was so pleased, she kissed him and hugged him tight. "I can't believe how happy I am to hear it," she said, grinning. "Did you manage to enjoy any of it?"

"Surprisingly, I did," he agreed. "June and her mother were there, too, so at least I had a friend to talk to. We danced a bit, too, though of course she was better than me by miles. I even managed to find my appetite, and tried some new things Thora will have to recreate for us."

"You've had a busy night, then," Star agreed. "I hope you're not too tired for one more adventure, though."

"Of course not," Zan answered right away, shrugging off his nice coat. "If you've that change of clothes you promised me, I can be a normal Crusader in a few minutes. But perhaps not before we all enjoy a small treat together."

He pointed back toward the door, where his brothers were trying to push past Vivi and into the house. She was squealing and bouncing around them excitedly, trying to snatch a large box from Zamiel's hands. The taller man smiled at Star as he finally made it into the common room, shoving Vivi out of his way as best he could.

"I never should have mentioned cake so carelessly," he apologized. "This one was made by the good general's cooks for dinner tonight, though it was never brought out. June's mother said there were several that never made it to the table, and so she made sure we left with the largest one. She wanted to make sure there was enough to share with the rest of our squad, but we've agreed it will do more good on the third floor."

Vivi squealed again and waved her hand in the air for attention. "I live there," she cried, "I live on the third floor! Give it to me!"

"Keep your grach in order," Zamiel told her firmly. "This cake is for everyone, and I don't trust you any farther than I could throw you."

Vivi crossed her arms and glared at him. "You could throw me halfway down the street! That's plenty far. At least let me get a look at it!"

"Oh, no, you don't. I won't trust you, not one bit. I've seen what happens when my goodhearted brothers trust you."

"Hey!"

"At least with food of any sort," Zamiel concluded, striding into the kitchen with the box held tantalizingly out of the girl's reach. Undeterred, Vivi followed and went on pestering him. Zan and Star shook their heads after the sight, then looked up to see that Zaneth had come to join them. And he looked almost cheerful.

"Mrs. Barsa said that the smaller leftover cakes can be smuggled to the other slaves in the house," he commented. "She worries especially about the elders and children, and does what she can to cheer them. Those cakes are as delicious as they are beautiful; they will do those people an enormous deal of good, I think."

The couple squinted at him, lately unused to seeing him like this.

"Are you smiling?" Zan asked, suspicion in his voice. "What's gotten into you?"

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I'm just feeling particularly good right now. It must have been the dinner, the wine, the music. In a way, it was just what I needed."

Star watched him carefully. Zaneth was suddenly so relaxed, even happy, for the first time since this whole engagement nonsense had begun. And though his words weren't false, there was something in them that definitely was.

Zan didn't know this, and became very excited. "So, whatever this has been over Tiba, it's done, right?"

And, shockingly, Zaneth's faint smile grew stronger, and he shook his head. "I've come to my senses," he said solidly. "You don't have to worry about me."

Zan sighed so heavily he nearly bumped into Star. "That's good to hear. We were worried about you, indeed. Don't do that to us, okay?"

The two brothers clasped arms in understanding, and appeared to come to a resolution; but in her heart, Star still had a terrible feeling that something was off. There was something Zaneth hadn't quite said, or perhaps something he _had_ said that had meant something else. There were so many possible ways that might have caused this feeling, it boggled her mind a bit.

The sensation was nagging at her so impatiently that she had to force it away, before it drove her to distraction. There were cake and adventures still to be had, after all. She could think it all over later, when she had less to do. And Zan was in no mood to discuss it now, anyway. Between the dinner, his brother, and the cake waiting in the kitchen, he was happier than he had been in a long time. After upsetting him so badly before, she couldn't bear to do it again.

Still trying to push her unease aside, Star caught Zan's hand and hauled him off toward the kitchen. She wanted more than anything to tell him what was suddenly on her heart, but knew that she would have to wait. So she gave him a smile and fished for something positive to say.

"Tell me more about dinner," she suggested. "What did you like best? I bet Thora could make it ten times better."

Zan peered down at her and smiled back, though there was concern on his face. "I agree with that. But first I have to ask, is something wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You seem distracted all at once. I can see it in your eyes – they're everywhere but on my own, and I don't like it. So, what is it? Whatever it is, you know you can trust me. I won't tell anyone or laugh or any such thing, I promise."

He was making it so difficult to do the right thing, and she had to wonder if he knew and was doing it on purpose. But she was determined not to spoil his pleasant evening, especially not with the notion that his brother was lying to him. About what, even? Forcing her anxiety back down, Star shook her head.

"We'll talk about it some other time, Zan. We have work to do, and I won't put distracting ideas in your head for it. Besides, I could be mistaken, or things will have changed by morning."

Zan looked doubtful and still concerned, but he didn't press her. All he did was sigh and shrug his shoulders, tugging her closer in the process.

"In that case, I'd have to say the best dish on the table was… The soup, actually. Pea and lavender cream soup with flaked white fish and… A root of some kind. It was shaved to paper thinness and tasted like licorice."

"…Fennel?"

"Yes, that is what Mrs. Barsa said, thank you."

Star thought briefly about those flavors, trying to taste them together in her mind. "That sounds… Interesting."

"It sounded obnoxious, and it looked questionable, but the whole thing was perfect. I would have asked for more, but the next course came out too fast and I was afraid it would seem rude."

And that was that. Star went on smiling attentively, pretending to have put her unease aside; but as Zan told her more of his evening, pretending became less difficult. The picture he painted was even more grand than the one he had imagined before, and his own way with words was captivating. She almost wished she could have been there.

She decided that it was alright, because she could see it just fine in her mind, and that was preferable.

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It had been a long, eventful night, and Zaneth was pleased that it had ended so simply. All they had done was leave Zan and a large cake behind at Bhlai House, and then return quietly to their own. He and Zamiel had hardly even stayed to talk to anyone; they were both tired and ready for a good night's rest.

How on earth Zan was so awake and ready for another, more intense adventure was beyond him.

The two remaining Garased brothers reached their home after a mostly silent walk. Once safely inside, Zamiel tore off his nice coat and tossed it on their floor with distaste.

"I'll have to have that thing burned in the morning," he grumbled, brushing at his arms. " _She_ touched it too long tonight, and now I'll never get the stench of her perfume out of it."

Zaneth watched him blankly, and only shrugged. "Thora could get the smell out, if it bothers you so much."

Zamiel shook his head. "No, no. It's the principle of it. But I'll see to it in the morning. I'm dead tired and longing for my bed."

"I'll be up in a moment," Zaneth told him. "I'm going to look in on our little family in the garage first."

Smiling to see his brother behaving normally again, Zamiel nodded goodnight and hiked up the stairs to his room.

As soon as he was alone, Zaneth knelt to pick up the dress coat lying on the floor. It was a poor excuse for such – cheap satin, wooden buttons disguised by imitation velvet, all its stitching full of flaws. But it was what Zamiel was able to afford for himself, which was terribly sad.

Now that he was alone, Zaneth pressed the coat to his face and took a deep breath. His brother was right. His clothes did still smell thickly of Tiba's perfume. The smell of citrus fruits and flowers was so strong that he nearly choked, but he forced himself not to. He was determined now to keep his composure, even though there was no one there to question him.

He silently hung the coat on a hook by the door, for Zamiel to deal with later, in his own way. The temptation to keep it for himself was overwhelming, but he forced himself to abandon it. If Zamiel found it missing in the morning, who else would he demand for it back? And why?

Zaneth shook his head over it as he hurried to the seclusion of the garage, to think things over in peace.

His brother could never know what had happened with him that night at dinner. For a growing number of reasons.

He slipped into the garage and locked it fast behind him, turning and reaching for the lamp on its shelf beside the doorframe. Lighting it deftly, he held it high and gazed around the small, crowded space. Dollosus and Unos were there, as always, curled up together on a nest of straw, their growing pup half-hidden behind her mother's tail. The pup went on sleeping soundly, not even stirring; but at the sound of the door opening and closing, and at the suddenly light in their faces, the proud parents raised their heads and blinked faintly at the intrusion.

Not caring if they were irritable at this time of night, Zaneth came to sit beside them and set the lamp on the floor. The light cast weird shadows that suited his mood well, as he reached up to pat Dollosus' scaley face. The creature just continued to gaze at him, only half awake, and not sure what he was doing there.

Finally, Zaneth felt safe enough to grin, and then to loud as loudly as he dared.

"They would never believe it if I told them," he told Dollosus through fits of laughter. "But it is the truth! I love her, and she loves me ,too! She told me so herself! It's a wonder!"

The grach's beady eyes seemed to widen at this incredible news. Zaneth was too giddy to think it could be otherwise. In truth, the beast was simply startled by his master's unexpected outburst, and then slightly alarmed when he leaned into his face with what seemed a look of madness – normally, an invitation to fight.

"Do you want to know how it happened?" Zaneth asked Dollosus. "You'll never guess how it happened. It was a perfect moment, a magical moment, completely unforgettable. Come, now, my old friend, surely you want to hear it."

Dollosus shook his mighty head free and lay back down in the straw, having had his fill of his master's noise. Satisfied that all was well, Unos lay her head beside his, and also went back to sleep.

"Well, I'll tell you anyway," Zaneth babbled on, jumping to his feet in a frenzy. "It was during the dancing this evening, just after dinner. Oh, you know how it annoys me to watch her dancing with my brother, who refuses to appreciate her. He was speaking to Tiba's mother just then, when she finally got away from them all and approached me for once. She handed me a glass, and we shared a toast, and she spoke to me for the first real time. Oh, I'll never forget it…"

Though, to be perfectly honest, he couldn't quite remember what they had talked about in those few minutes. He remembered himself being as dashing as Zamiel and as witty as Zan, and as little himself as possible. He remembered Tiba finding it charming. But he couldn't remember the words they had shared.

Perhaps what had come next had moved those exact memories aside for something more important.

"But wait till you hear what happened next – you just won't believe it in a thousand years. While the others were distracted, she took me aside to another room. There, we held each other close, and at last confess our love for each other. Tiba Barsa is in love with me, Dollosus! She looked me in the eye and promised me so. She told me of how she loathes my brother and wishes to be rid of him, so that we can be together."

Then Zaneth's face fell, and he began to pace. "Of course, she dares not go against her master's will – my master's – and I dare not, myself. We have no clue what we shall do about this…. But I knew it! I knew all along that they were no match for each other, and I _knew_ that there was goodness in her heart. We'll find a way, my love and I, we'll do it somehow. Zamiel and Ofelia have found a way. Zan and Star have found a way. And now it's mine and Tiba's turn. She loves me, too… I just can't believe it…"

He was breathless by the time he finished his incredible tale. He was so excited and so happy, he really couldn't believe his good fortune. In fact… Somewhere deep in his heart, or under his heart, in in some part of his body that had no name, he didn't believe it at all. That small part of him cried out that it made no sense and couldn't possibly be true, and even fleetingly wondered if he had been drugged during dinner.

Something about his story just seemed wrong to that part of him, though it couldn't say what. And because of that, he brushed it off as a fancy of his imagination. As a fear that he had dreamed the whole thing. He shook himself and ran back to the nest, crouching beside Dollosus' head.

"So, you understand now why my brothers wouldn't believe me, don't you? You see now that they can never know about any of this. It _must_ stay secret from all our family, all our friends, or they'll kill me for sure. I've fooled them for now, by pretending that I've let my feelings for her go; the less they suspect me, the safer we'll both be. It's the only way I can protect us. I mean, you have a mate now, and a baby, too. Of course you understand."

He reached out to pat the beast, but Dollosus snorted and pulled away from his touch, aggravated that his sleep had been disturbed yet again.

"Alright, big guy, I get it. I just needed it out of my system, is all, and I certainly can't tell Zamiel. For many reasons. So remember: this stays between me, you, Unos, and Rebel. It can be our little family secret, right?"

None of the grach answered him, which suited him very well. His secret was safe, indeed.

"I knew I could count on you lot," he said, picking up the lamp. He placed it back on its stand by the door, and blew the light out. The shadows vanished, and all was still.

"Goodnight, my friends. Remember, it's our little secret."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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More food that I've never had or made before, but would like to hammer out someday:

Thora's vanilla rice is a thing of my own, which I call Polynesian rice – a can of crushed pineapple, a grated carrot, 1 tablespoon of vanilla, and a pot of white jasmine rice. It's good as a hot or cold side, makes a great addition to a vegan/gluten free potluck, and can even be reheated with the pineapple juice to make a sort of pudding. We love it especially with pork of any kind, hence the shredded pork Star talked about. That's basically just southern BBQ with a good mustard-based sauce, the way we do it where I'm from. (It's 1000 times better than BBQ sauce, promise.)

The pea soup is something I came up with off the top of my head, trying to think of something glorious, yet pretentious. Actually, in my head, this soup is mad easy to make. Shaving the fennel is my least favorite part, just because a mandolin set that thin makes my thumbs prickle in fear. I'll let y'all know how it goes someday. (It's on the same list as Lindal's turnip and bacon soup, from _What Happens in Broome._ )

So, Zaneth has reasons… You may have noticed a pattern with that… ;D


	11. Chapter 10: Disguises

My life has been a wreck again, which I hope excuses how long overdue this chapter is. Two jobs, financial aid woes, a broken computer, and multiple failed attempts to finally move out of my parent's house have not amounted to an easy summer. At least no one is dying, so that's good. :/

I must be getting old. Summers used to be time off from normal life to relax and have fun. Now they are time off from normal life to panic constantly and be miserable.

In other news, I DID take a vacation and joined my Final Fantasy friends in Olympia, Washington, for a week of climbing mountains and hiking trails. We did Mt. St. Helens and Mt. Rainier, both of which stick up out of the earth all alone like unicorn horns, which was a new and almost frightening sight for me. Ultimately, my conclusion is that Emily Rodda knows absolutely _nothing_ about mountains, and unsupervised teenagers would die immediately on one.

I also took the opportunity to re-read the _Rowan_ series on the 15 and 12-hour plane trips, making sure to leave copious snarky remarks in the margins, and making note of details that could help with a timeline. "Dammit, John," pops up in my commentary a lot…

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 _Chapter 10: Disguises_

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Today was the day. The day which Star, her family, and all the Zebak had been waiting for, though they hadn't known it for a long time. The day which had kept many of them awake long nights, from both fear and excitement. Today was the day that would either win their freedom, or lead to unfathomable disaster.

The queen's masquerade ball was today.

As she looked over all the pieces of her splendid costume, Star thought carefully about her own special place in the chaos that was coming. The rebels of Central Control had good reasons for wanting her to join them in the queen's ballroom. For one, her mother was one of the previous king's perfectly bred super soldiers, and she had certainly inherited the same coveted traits – impressive strength, keen senses and quick reflexes, and fierce determination. For another, it was only right that she join the fight were her legendary, powerful parents were unable to.

Most importantly in many of their minds, Star had the Earth sigil. She alone could command it, for she was Arin as much as she was Zebak. She wore around her neck one of the most powerful, impressive magics in the world, and it would surely take nothing less to contend with the Titan of Fire. They had commented before, there was no one else in Habaharan who could do what would have to be done.

Star had done her best not to think of what they meant by that until she absolutely had to. In the back of her mind, she had known it all along. And now she allowed herself to face the awful truth for what it was.

 _They want me to kill her,_ she thought at last. _I_ must _kill her. She can't be left alive, obviously – it isn't as though we can take her prisoner; and it certainly isn't as though she will politely concede defeat, even if we overrun the palace. That aside, the talisman won't bond fully with a new Titan until the current one has passed, and we need a new Titan as badly as we don't need this one._

 _I'm the only one with the means to do it. Still, the elements concern me. Earth and Fire can surely work together – they combine on the compass, after all. But Fire is still the stronger of the two. I'm not even a master of this magic like papa is; he's been studying and practicing with it for years, and I've only just begun to understand parts of it._

 _The rebels are hopeful, and it is our only chance… But I'm afraid I'll only be able to hold her off at best. Perhaps I'll get lucky and do her some damage. Distract her long enough to give someone else a chance. But to end her completely, all on my own? Unless Fate is truly on our side and has no surprises for us, I just don't think it will be possible._

 _Besides… Could I really_ kill _a person? Even someone as vile as the Dragon Lord?_

She doubted this the more she thought of it. She felt anxiety rising in her and pressed her hands together as hard as she could. There wasn't much in the way of a plan for tonight, but she was a vital part of it. There was no time to change it now, and very little that could be changed. The duty and the right couldn't be passed off to anyone else.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she swallowed hard and forced herself to accept it. She thought of Evan, who was a year and a half old and had never seen his father before. She thought of Alanis and Forley, who had a life and a future to spend together. She thought of the Garased brothers, who would be free men if things went as they hoped. She thought of June Barsa, who could finally just dance because she loved it, not because she turned a profit for someone else. She thought of Keids and his crew, and all the others who dwelled below the city, who could come out of hiding and walk in the sun once again.

So much depended on her part in the plan. So many people, and so much freedom. For their sakes and so many others, she had to at least try.

It was hard not to dwell on this over the day, and she remained alone in her room, thinking as little as she could about it. When Ofelia appeared at four o'clock as she had promised, armed with a case of cosmetics and tools, Star was impossibly cheered. The two gathered up her things and hurried to the third floor, where her mother and cousins could aid her transformation.

"It's going to take a bit of time," Ofelia commented as they climbed the stairs. "A royal ball is no simple party you know. We've a lot of work to do, you and I. Oh, you and all that hair of yours – it will take a good hour to curl it all."

"I don't think I've had my hair curled before," Star answered, nervously smoothing her mane.

"You'll like it, you'll like it," Ofelia insisted, grinning at the challenge before her. "And wait until you see what I have planned for that pretty face!"

"But I'll be wearing a mask the whole time."

"A lady's always got to be presentable, that's the first rule of being a grown woman," Ofelia told her wisely. "And you are a grown woman now, so you'd better start acting like it."

Star nodded silently and didn't argue anymore. The household had celebrated her birthday quietly, with only her family and squad C-57 there for it. She didn't mind this. All that mattered to her was that she was 16 now, and that no one could forbid her from doing anything.

As far as the Zebak were concerned, she was an adult now. How strange, that her first real act as a grown person would be to attempt saving a nation, by killing its monarch.

Getting ready took even longer than Ofelia had implied, and Star was glad that she had so many people to help her. As soon as she had slipped into her _kule_ , Ofelia went to work on her hair, rubbing products into it and rolling lock after lock into curlers, and twisting stray pieces up in a round, heated iron. Star wanted to shake her head over it, but found that it only pushed the hot iron into her ears. It was terribly uncomfortable, and she marveled that wealthy women would do this every morning as a matter of course.

Watching from the couch, Vivi was laughing fiendishly at the sight.

"You look like you've got eggs tied up in your hair," she cackled. "You're not going to the ball like _that_ , are you? Or is that the way fancy people wear their hair?"

"Of course not," Star snapped, staring defiantly into the mirror before her. "Ofelia's taking the rollers out later. Once they're out, they'll leave my hair full of curls, which _is_ how fancy people wear their hair."

Viv made a face. "That's stupid. Fancy people are stupid. I bet it'll look stupid, too."

Star had to agree silently. Ofelia was finally satisfied, and had moved on to her cosmetics. She had boxes and boxes of colored powders, tubes of paste, and a whole bag just for brushes. She went through all those things, picking out the tools and colors she liked best, and setting them in order. Like an artist preparing to paint a masterpiece, only the blank canvas was someone's face.

Ofelia had taught her how to make up her face for a normal day, and so Star had thought she knew all there really was to know about cosmetics. Apparently, she had only been taught the barest of basics. Layers of plaster and paint and powder later, Star and her family were impressed with the woman's careful work.

"You look like a completely different person," Leah said thoughtfully. "She's changed the shape of your face somehow."

Ofelia nodded triumphantly, expertly smudging a streak of darker paste into Star's cheek. "It's all in the blending, girl, it's very important."

Again, Star wanted to nod in agreement, but dared not move while Ofelia was working so carefully. She had done the same with her nose, her chin, and her jawline in several varying tones, and she now felt like she was staring at a stranger. Her skin appeared unnaturally smooth, like polished stone. The sweet, round shape of her face, still so like her father's, had vanished under all the layers. Her button nose was now sharper, too, and she didn't care much for it. Her eyelashes had been crimped with a cruel-looking device and brushed thick with liquid kohl, making her already wide eyes as big as pale sapphires.

She looked more stunning and elegant with every layer, the Arin features she loved disguised to appear more Zebak for this occasion. That was a good thing, really. And she didn't look _bad_ , but…

It wasn't who she really was. This was so much more than her false mark, which she had grown used to; and that was part of who she really was. But this… It was as if she was already wearing a splendidly designed mask.

The final touches were mundane by comparison. A few swipes of rouge to her cheeks and lips – though certainly more than on any other day – and Ofelia stepped back to admire her work.

"That will do, I think," she said, nodding proudly. "It will be my best work yet, I'd say."

Alien as it felt, Star marveled at her reflection. She smiled faintly at herself, and let her smile grow.

"I look like a princess," she said quietly, stopping herself from brushing at her face in amazement. Her mother stepped behind her placed her strong hand on her shoulder, also smiling in wonder at her reflection.

"My daughter, you look beautiful," she said lovingly. "But you have always seemed a princess to me."

Smiling together into the mirror, the mother and daughter had never looked so alike. Star decided that in spite of the many layers, she liked her new appearance. And it was only for an evening, after all.

"Thank you, mum. I needed that."

Vivi made a disgusted sound, making all sorts of faces at the scene. "I'd never be a princess for anyone or anything," she declared. "Not if it means all _that_. It does, too, look stupid, like I said it would. Yuck."

"Probably because we haven't taken the curlers out," Leah told her firmly. "We can't all have naturally curly hair like you and I, and we can't blame people for being jealous."

Vivi stuck out her tongue and flopped back carelessly on the couch, unconvinced. As the curlers were finally being unrolled, Star felt her mother's fingers brush her neck, and the plaited cord around it. There was the barest hesitation, and then a firm hand clamped on her shoulder.

"Star, my dear, it would bring me enormous comfort if you left the sigil here with me tonight."

"I know, mum… But it is large part of the plan, and it is my responsibility. I'm no one's Titan, and can work no magic without it."

"Perhaps. But if you are captured, the sigil will be captured with you. It will be discovered at once. It will be lost forever. If you leave it with me, I can hide it. It survived hidden here for centuries before returning home. It can do so again. At least it will endure, for future generations."

"If things go so badly, there may not be future generations for it to matter. If there is to be any hope of it getting home, I must take it with me. The battle is already lost without it."

A long, tense moment passed between them. Then Zeel squeezed her shoulder a last time and released her.

"You are right, I suppose. Oh, but promise me you'll keep it hidden. Keep it in one of the skirt pockets, perhaps. The neckline of your dress is too low to hide it, and it can't be seen, not even hidden in plain sight."

"Yes, mum, I won't."

Zeel took her by the shoulders again and turned her to stare fiercely into her eyes.

"The Earth sigil is everything to your father's people," she said severely. "It is their history, their purpose, their source of power. Without it, they are just a broken, bickering, nameless people with no sense and no future, like all the rest before them. It can't be lost. At all costs, it _cannot_ be lost, do you understand me?"

"I know, mum. I won't lose it. I'll protect it with my life. I promise."

It almost hurt to think that her mother didn't know she understood this. But fear and unexplainable guilt were heavy in her eyes, and Star could see that her mother didn't doubt her for a second. It was only that strange, irrational anger that came over adults when they were sad or afraid. It was only a mother's need to impress her wisdom and command on her child, as all mothers did. Still very grave, Zeel let her go and fixed all her focus on the curlers again, pretending that they had distracted her.

Shaken by this, Alanis sighed heavily and said slowly, "You know, it's not too late to forget all this and just stay home."

"Oh yes, it is," Star answered right away. "Leah spent a week on this _habikule_ , and I haven't spent an hour and a half standing at this mirror for nothing. Besides, I want to do this. I can't stay here and wait around to hear how tonight goes. I have to be there. I refuse not to be there. You know that."

Alanis shrugged, anxiety on her normally stoic face. "There are many ways to be brave. You don't have to do this. You could back out now, and not one person would fault you for it. We love you just as you are – alive and whole. You know you don't have to prove anything to us."

"I'm not trying to _prove_ anything," Star insisted. "If something so horrible came and conquered Rin like this, wouldn't you want a hand in undoing it? If someone was taking a stand, wouldn't you stand with them? Is there anyone who would be able to stop you?"

Bowing her head, Alanis smiled faintly. "I suppose that's all true," she answered. "No doubt, I'd be the one rallying others to take that stand in the first place – like Zamiel has done. I do understand why you're doing this, Star, and I don't blame you, and I certainly can't stop you now. But can't you see I'm scared for you? We all are."

Star turned a bit to face her with a weak smile of her own. "Do you think I'm not?" she asked, allowing herself to tremble a bit. "I can't tell if I'm dressing for a ball, or arming for battle."

"Maybe it's a bit of both," Leah suggested, reaching for the first of Star's skirts. "I've made all your costumes to be lightweight and easy to move in for the occasion. We all know what's about to unfold inside the palace tonight. I've also sewn plenty of deep pockets into the skirts, large enough to carry a good knife. I even made the hems on some of the skirts wide enough to feed a whip through."

"So at least our leaders will be well armed," Star replied. "That's nice…"

"Here. Take this, then."

Star looked down and found that Vivi had appeared beside them, holding a sheathed knife out to her.

"I won't be needing it tonight," the girl said with a shrug. "You'd may as well have it."

Touched in spite of how irksome Vivi had been before, Star accepted the blade and held it firmly in her hand. It was heavy and solid, something real that could be depended on, and that brought her comfort. She smiled and said, "Thank you, Vivi. I'm sure I'll be glad to have it before the night if done."

Vivi smiled back, full of confidence, planting her fists proudly on her hips. "Take good care of it for me, okay? It was a present from Sheila a long time ago, and it's pretty important to me."

Suddenly, the girl's eyes went wide. "Oh! I have something else for you," she cried, dashing off to her room. "I can't believe I nearly forgot! I'll be right back!"

When she returned, she dumped two handfuls of trinkets, baubles, and chains on the table before them, looking mightily proud of herself.

"I saw some things in my collection that might look good with your fancy bee dress and hair," she explained. "You can pick anything you like, but I think you should pick the gold roses. There's a necklace, a bracelet, _and_ a ring."

Delighted, Star began picking those items out of the pile. "Do I even want to know how you have the whole set?"

"Well… I didn't get the earrings, so it's not exactly complete… Sorry about that."

Her borrowed jewelry in place and the last of her ten skirts tied high on her waist, Star and her family finally stepped back and admired what they had accomplished. Leah was grinning, especially thrilled with how well her work had turned out. The wide sleeves of the dress were now slit to the elbows, and would drift about like wings whenever Star moved. Each skirt of glossy black or gold was just shorter than the one beneath it, creating stripes. And, as Vivi had suggested, the set of gold roses were a perfect match.

Leah sighed in great satisfaction and planted her fists on her hips. "It all just came out so perfectly," she said proudly. "I can't believe I really made this! It's the most incredible thing I've ever made in my life."

Ofelia nodded in agreement, just as proud of her own part in in. "Girl, if you aren't the prettiest queen bee in the world, I'll eat all my own brushes and never paint a face again."

"That sounds a bit extreme, but it is true," Alanis said slowly, trying to stay upset, but unable to when her cousin was so triumphantly radiant. "Oh, I wish everyone back home could see you like this. No one would dare tease you about the way you look, ever again."

Even Vivi had to hum thoughtfully over it all, looking Star's magnificent costume over for something worth complaining about. "Yeah, I guess it's not half bad," she mumbled at last. "I mean, it's not as stupid-looking as I thought it was going to be, I guess… It looks kind of nice."

"Well, I suppose I'll have to take your word for it," Star replied dryly. "This was tedious, and I wouldn't want to do it _every_ day, but… This is amazing! Just look at me! Can you imagine the look on grandmother's face if she could see me right now? She would never believe it."

"Who would never believe what?" came a blessedly familiar voice from the stairs. Everyone turned to see the Garased brothers and Forley climbing the last few steps, each of them carrying a flat, round box, only to stop and stare in wonder as they saw Star for the first time. Forley, who had spoken so loudly, was so surprised that his box fell from his hands and hit the floor with heavy thump.

Roused from his own shock by the sound, Zamiel smacked him over the head and scolded, "Be careful with that, man! These masks were expensive, and there's no time to fix that if you've broken it."

"That would be a terrible shame," Forley apologized, kneeling to pick up the box again. "My dear little cousin looks incredible, and I would hate to ruin her costume that way."

Blushing under all her makeup, Star took a moment to admire the three brothers, handsome as she had expected in their own costumes. Each one was uniquely clever in its own way. Zamiel's tunic and loose trousers were mottled brown, and his skits were narrowed in the back like a tail, very much the shape and color of a guard dog. He was even wearing a worn leather collar around his neck, clearly borrowed from Dolosus for the night. And Zaneth wore layered capes, rather than skirts, the corners of each one fastened to his sleeves with buttons to make the shape of a bat's wings.

But, of course, Star's favorite was Zan. It was plain that his costume had been designed to match hers well, black and gold where hers was gold and black. The hems of his tunic, trousers, and all his skirts had been frayed and fluffed into fur. There was also a modest, painted wooden crown on his head, as befitted the king of beasts; it hadn't been part of the plan, but it suited him. He looked as regal and princely as Star had known he would.

Completely ordinary next to them, Forley was still smiling over his own clumsiness as he sauntered up to Star and held out the box in his hands. "It looks like we made it back right on time," he said cheerily. "All you need now is your mask – and here it is! I've already peeked, and it is fantastic. See for yourself."

Star took the box, lifted the lid, and grinned at the glittering thing inside. The whole mask was made of black lace, starched to impossible stiffness and glossed with shimmering paint. She had wondered before a why she would need to be so made up when she would be wearing a mask, but now she was glad of it. The mask would only cover the top half of her face, and the lace would still be very sheer.

With careful fingers, she lifted the mask and placed it over her eyes. She blinked at its strangeness against her skin, and smiled slowly at her friends and family.

"Well, I guess that's everything, then. How does it look?" she asked.

She had half hoped that Zan would answer first, but wasn't surprised when he just went on staring at her in wonder. But from the marveling faces all around her, she could tell that all this hard work had been a brilliant success. She turned to the mirror to see for herself, and gasped at her reflection. Star knew all along that the mask would look a bit silly, but that it was all in good fun; now that she saw it, she felt as though she could be looking at an entirely different creature. Even though it was just a costume, there was something unsettling about it.

But the mask hid the fright on her face, and so she laughed nervously and tried to smile at herself.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble just for me," she said lightly to Zamiel. "I would have fashioned a mask of my own, somehow; and you said yourself, these weren't cheap to have made."

Zamiel smiled back and pulled out his own mask. "It was no trouble at all, my friend," he insisted. "It wouldn't do to have you at a masquerade ball with no mask, now would it?"

Star shrugged, very grateful but still doubtful. "It just seems a sad waste to me. No matter what happens tonight, I doubt any of our masks will survive for long."

"Oh, please," Zamiel groaned. "That's just the sort of thing Zan might have said once."

Annoyed from his wondering silence, Zan dug his elbow into his brother's side as hard as he could, and then he finally managed to speak. "You don't have to worry about my brother's money, Star. I covered yours."

Star took off her mask to stare at him properly, and so he could see the look on her face for what it was. "Why on earth have you done such a thing? You of all people know what a waste it will be – you shouldn't have!"

"But I wanted to," he insisted, walking over to take her hand in his. "Besides, in for a penny, in for a pound, I figured. Everything will change after tonight, and I suddenly doubt that money will be of much use to us, then. Better to spend what little I had now, on something that matters. Don't you like it?"

Glancing down at the mask in her hand, she found a real smile for him. "Of course I do. Thank you."

A familiar warmth began growing in her chest, and she shot a look of surprise at the Earth sigil, still in its place around her neck. The feeling had begun gently; but there was also something demanding behind it, threatening to overwhelm her if she didn't stop to heed it at once.

Star had hoped the sigil might give her some clue about the night ahead, no matter how small. But why _now_ , of all times, when the ball was only an hour away and no time was left to change plans or make preparations?

Zamiel and Zaneth were trying on their own masks, and had distracted most of the family. Everyone was joking and teasing them, and so Star found that there were no eyes on her for the first time in hours. This was good, she decided. She gripped Zan's hand and pulled him away into one of the third floor's hidden rooms, shutting the door fast behind them.

"What on earth has gotten into you?" he asked. When he saw her hand fly to grasp the gold medallion, grim understanding filled his eyes. He pulled her close in the dimness, holding her upright as the words of prophecy came tumbling from her heart.

 _The Enemy's begun its work.  
Where all is hidden, traitors lurk.  
Remove your priceless treasure, then  
see the Dragon rise again.  
For trust and faith must go both ways,  
if you're to take the coming days.  
The night will end. The day will pass.  
All ends shall meet and mend, at last._

With a shuddering breath, Star let herself sag wearily into Zan's waiting arms. She felt heavier than usual, under the weight of so many skirts, and all the products in her hair and on her face. All at once, in the haze that always followed such grand visions, she couldn't help feeling extremely put out with the whole business. The hair, the dress, the mask…

It was all so _fake_. So pretend. Such a lie. After being filled to bursting with the deep magic that loved the truth, she was nearly furious with it all. No wonder she had been unsettled, as much as she had been delighted.

As she went on trembling with fatigue and anger, she thought of the rhyme and tried to make sense of it. She tried to see how the words had shown how to defeat the Dragon Lord easily, but saw at once that they did not. It spoke of dragons, though. One in particular, it seemed. It spoke of faith and trust, the great virtues of her element. That felt familiar, she found. It spoke of a treasure, removed…

Regaining her strength, holding herself up a bit, Star reached again for the Earth sigil and held it in her fingertips. She looked down and turned it over and over, marveling at it for the first time in what seemed an age. She couldn't believe what it was telling her to do.

 _But…It can't be,_ she silently insisted. _Are you… Are you sure?_

She knew it was wrong to question the power she normally trusted without hesitation. When had her father's magic ever let her down, or led her astray on purpose? But the gentle flow of warmth through her fingers had a feeling of reassurance, as if understanding her fear and allowing her a moment of doubt. What it was asking was unheard of. Downright blasphemous, perhaps. Such a thing had never been done before, and might never be done again.

Slowly, she looked up into the violet eyes of the man she loved and trusted with all her strength.

"Zan… I believe the Earth sigil wants you to take it."

Those violet eyes blinked once, twice at her in shock and confusion. "What?"

Star held up the sigil and said, "This is my priceless treasure. It is one of the most precious, priceless things that exists in our world. You are the Dragon – you have been before, in my prophecies. I believe the sigil wants me to take it off and pass it to you, for now. For safe keeping."

The shock was still clear on Zan's face, but she could see that he was thinking it over for himself. Trying to see how she could be mistaken, but seeing nothing but reason in it. So he sighed and shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

"I suppose, in my hands, it will look like an ordinary costume prop," he agreed. "If it _were_ discovered, the most it could be taken for is a family heirloom. And if I kept it hidden in one of my skirt pockets, who says it even has to be discovered?"

Star smiled, glad that he had accepted their fate as she had. "Mum would appreciate that. She warned me not to hide it in plain sight, either."

She normally would have tugged the sigil off over her head without thinking about it. Tonight, with her hair so curled and stiff, she reached around her neck and untied the plaited cord. The knot was a simple one, but tight with age. Her father had been only a little younger than she was now, when he had first tied this knot, on the shores of this land. That had happened more than 20 years ago. She realized all of this in a flash, and couldn't help feeling a bit sad as the knot finally loosened and came apart.

It also seemed defiant, so like the rebel she was now. She realized that it was also a desperately hopeful act, as she passed the precious medallion into Zan's strong hands, just as she had been told to. An awkward silence stretched between them, the oddness of their switched roles heavy on their shoulders.

"I've only taken it off once since I came here," Star said quietly, touching her neck where the cord had been for so long. "Just that one time, not an hour after we entered the city. That was how we met Vivi and Zizi, do you remember?"

Zan smiled faintly and snorted with laughter. "Yes, I remember. She pinched it from you, and you went tearing after her into the crowd. We were afraid we wouldn't find you again."

Star shook her head faintly. So much had changed since then. "It feels so strange," she went on. "I feel naked without it, or as though a part of my body was missing. I don't have a word for this feeling, and that bothers me…"

Zan was gazing at the sigil in his hand. "I don't have a word for what I'm feeling, either. I've never touched this thing before, and now I'm to be entrusted with it? Not long ago, I didn't even believe its power could be real. So why me? What does that mean? And what of the rest of the prophecy – what does any of it mean? It doesn't speak of the battle that's sure to come, or of who the victor will be. It doesn't give us any hints or clues as to what we should expect."

"I'm sure they do, Zan. We just don't see it yet."

"Is there anything else to be seen? We know the enemy is at work – she's throwing this ball to try and trap us, is she not? We know there are traitors in her midst – we've recruited most of her fighting force by now. We know we must all trust in each other in the days to come, because those days will be filled with chaos. And we know that everything will change, after this night and tomorrow pass."

"So you say," Star said gently, laying her hand over his. "But none of that is quite what the sigil said. It very rarely means what it seems to, unless time is very short and the need is very great. For now, all that is clear is that you must take it. You can't use its great powers, so I doubt that it will try to surprise you. All you need do is put it in your skirt pocket and not mention it to anyone."

Zan rolled his eyes and knelt to stuff the medallion into one of his hidden pockets. "How many times a day should I walk it?" he teased. "Will it eat dry food, or do I have to buy something special for its delicate taste?"

"Well, you've spent all your money on my mask; so I suppose the Arin source of magic will just have to make do with whatever it is given," Star replied tartly. "It always has. And it always works wonders."

"That will have to suffice for me, then," he answered, picking something up as he rose and handing it to Star. "I believe you dropped this?"

It was her mask, fallen from her hand as the prophecy had overtaken her. Feeling embarrassed, she set it back on her face. "Oh, how do you like that?" she scolded herself. "I haven't had it for ten minutes, and already I'm set on ruining it. I'm so sorry."

"Could it have been helped?" Zan pointed out, drawing her into a much happier embrace than before. "You couldn't have controlled yourself, even if you had wanted to. Of course I forgive you; I'm just glad I noticed it before I turned and stepped on it. Then it would have been my fault, and I would have been the one apologizing."

The door opened before Star could sass him like she wanted to. Zaneth poked his head inside, his mask pushed back over his hair, and he looked the couple over without surprise.

"If you two are finished fooling around in here, we really should be going soon," he told them. "Take a moment to say goodbye to everyone; and Zan, have someone help you get your mask set. Zeel helped us with ours, and I suspect she will want to do the same for you. But after that, we have to go."

Star and Zan nodded in agreement and followed him with some reluctance back into the main room. While he did as he had been told and set about fixing his mask, she went around the room hugging and kissing her family goodbye.

 _Goodbye_ , Star kept thinking. _Not goodnight, but goodbye. As though it were already decided that we won't be returning. As though we will never meet again. It sounds so final; but our chances are so unsure, maybe it's better that way._

 _So have I dressed for a ball, armed for battle, or simply prepared for my own funeral…?_


	12. Chapter 11: The Hall of Masks

And roll credits.

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 _Chapter 11: The Hall of Masks_

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Star gazed toward the sky in silent awe. The magnificent shape of the palace now loomed before her, all of its hundreds of windows blazing with light, the sandstone and metal of its walls glowing in the sunset. Elegant music drifted from deep within, beckoning sweetly, almost teasing. Stark by contrast, its one tower seemed to stretch into the heavens, straight from the center like a unicorn's horn, black as night and cruel as the people within.

Star had never particularly wanted to see this place so closely. Most of Habaharan's people felt the same, fearing what cruelness went on inside and below. Wealthy Northsiders insisted that an invitation to the palace was a rare and great honor, and had been complaining for months that it was being wasted on the likes of common Central officers. Those very officers would have been happy to trade places with them. Now that she had arrived, Star felt inclined to agree, no matter how grand or exciting the occasion was.

It had been a small adventure just getting there. She and the Garaseds had been joined by the rest of the squadron, one by one, as well as other officers in splendid costume. It felt to her as though an army was amassing itself, answering a silent call, and gathering for an invasion. She had glanced proudly at Zamiel many times on that walk, thinking of how long he had worked and planned and waited for this night.

He had done what no one else had been able to accomplish before. He had rallied an army in secret, and managed to keep it secret. And now he was leading that army uphill, to the palace, their purpose and all their faces still hidden from plain sight, to spring their trap and take hold of their destiny. The queen was no doubt looking out her own window that evening and smiling coyly to herself, pleased at the sight of so many unwilling servants pouring into her home. She would never imagine for a second that they were coming to destroy her life.

Looking around on that walk, though, she had noticed something unsettling about squad C-57 right away. She had expected to see Nyoma, Zane's wife, and Zirita's lover, Misha among them, as she was there with Zan. She had come to know and like them both, as the rest of the squad did, and wondered why they weren't there.

"Nyoma is feeling poorly again," Zane had answered calmly when she asked. "She has never been fond of such large, loud gatherings, anyway; they make her terribly nervous. Besides, we would have had to find someone to watch the children for us, and we haven't the money to promise them. No, Nyoma was happy to stay home with our little ones tonight."

When she had asked Zirita about Misha, who was never too far from her these days, she had shrugged and made sorry excuses a little too quickly.

"He and Korus were in the middle of a heated game of chess, and neither could be torn away from it. Lola helped Zione and I get ready, and made sure to keep those boys occupied for it. She loaned me the pin in my hair for the evening. It was her mother's, and she was afraid the glass jewels were a little old fashioned, but I fell in love with it. I think it works, don't you, Star?"

Star and smiled and nodded back, because it did look lovely; but she said nothing more, because Zirita plainly didn't want to discuss the matter. Being without her beloved on such an important night should have upset her, but she had seemed almost pleased that he wasn't there. Just as Zane had seemed pleased that his wife was safe at home and out of danger.

Was she _really_ the only other who had come with them? It had been impossible to tell who might be who in the crowd, but she hadn't been able to help wondering. The invitation had extended to any significant other an officer might have, and Star had expected most of them to jump at the opportunity, like she had. Only then had it occurred to her that perhaps they hadn't shared her enthusiasm, and had staunchly refused to go anywhere near the palace.

Of course, tonight's ball didn't matter to them as it mattered to Star. He had been a part of this rebellion nearly from its beginning. She worked closely with its leaders, went on missions, and helped it run smoothly. She had refused to miss their moment of truth. She had been so caught up in her own business, it had escaped her that others had business of their own to think about.

 _And perhaps it's for the best,_ she had decided. _The coming chaos will be overwhelming. I wouldn't want someone I care about so much getting caught up and hurt in that._

She had glanced at Zan, staring firmly ahead and gripping her hand tight in his own. She had never appreciated how much he worried over her before. Sometimes, she had found his fussing to be a nuisance and a distraction. Perhaps it was the uncertainty and danger they were marching so surely into, but she suddenly understood, and felt truly sorry for all the worry she had caused him.

But it had been far too late to turn back and put his worries to rest. So she had given his hand a reassuring squeeze and continued marching beside him, proud that they would face their fate together.

The march up the hill had been sure to take a while, and no doubt many lady officers in long dresses and heels had been dreading it. Their surprise and relief had been enormous, then, when a small platoon of carts and wagons were waiting for them at the base of the hill, driven by men and women Star knew well from the rebellion.

"I know you hadn't said anything, Garased," one of them had said to Zamiel, "but it felt like the right thing to do. We all need help from time to time. Call it a gift."

And so it was that every Central Control officer in Southside had been carried uphill, by willing friends rather than terrified peasants. Some of those wagons had been a bit crowded, but all those passengers had been heard to laugh and joke and tease each other over it. Merry song had come bursting from one of them, and soon the whole army had joined in. Star had sung along with all the rest, feeling emboldened for the night to come, enjoying the curious faces peering out of their homes at the spectacle.

She had wondered faintly if such a moment had been foretold once, so long ago that it had passed into myth and been forgotten. In either case, she had made sure to mark all the details of it – the sights, the sounds, the powerful sentiments. She had wanted to remember it all, exactly as it was, for the day when she could write about it.

None of those wagons had dared come too close to the palace, of course, and Star hadn't been surprised when the army had been left at the first of its two gates. Their friends had wished them luck and farewell, then hurried back down the hill as quickly as possible. Though they had gone, the strength of their courage and kindness could still be felt among the people they had left behind. Star could feel it filling her heart and spirit with determination, and a fierce kind of love she had never felt before.

They had marched together through the first gate and into sprawling gardens. Almost certainly these were the royal gardens Vivi had read so much about over the last few months; she probably could have wandered them without getting lost. Flowering shrubs and sculpted bushes were all around them, paths winding between them like a maze.

And before them, the palace and all it stood for.

Zan was gripping her hand tighter and tighter, nervous to be back. "It's simple, really," he commented in a low voice. "We go in, we do the thing, we get out. We follow my brother's lead, we stick together, and we don't die. What could go wrong?"

"That's the spirit," Star agreed, smiling for him as best she could. She was glad that her mask hid the uncertainty in her face, though she was sure he still knew it was there. "At the very least, with masks as wonderful as these, we'll have a hard time misplacing each other."

He smiled back, admiring her as she was admiring him. Like his brothers, his mask had been sculpted from plaster and covered with imitation velvet and furs. Only his eyes and mouth could be seen, through the narrowed eyes and gaping jaws of a snarling black lion. He looked ferocious and confident – a far cry from how he really felt about himself.

Passing through the second gate, the army found a pair of sentinels waiting to greet them. Not a single person let on that they were curious, though they must have been. The queen had mentioned a private force to guard her back tonight, and many people had wondered what she had meant by this if all her officers were to be enjoying the ball. Star knew that everyone was squinting at these pair through their masks, trying to tell if the two were people they knew.

As it was, these guards were in their own kind of costume. They wore the gray suit and black boots of Central Control, though the style was definitely old fashioned. With a start, Star realized that she recognized it from her childhood; it was the same uniform Central Control had worn during the Plains War, and the one drawn into books in Rin. The lower part of their faces were covered with metal grates, and their skin had been painted and powered to a deathly pallor. It appeared that their eyes had even been stained with eye drops to an unnatural shade of gray.

So, their costume for the evening was that of nameless, faceless, mindless servants. It was terrible, but fitting.

As Zamiel led his people through the gates, he nodded cordially to the sentinels. "We thank you for your service this evening. A shame, your having to miss the ball this way."

The two narrowed their eyes at him, but gave no reply. Clearing his throat, Zamiel continued, "My, what remarkable weather we have tonight."

That was this week's passphrase, which all his people inside Central knew and could answer to. Star and Zan waited breathlessly for an answering remark about the sunset, which would mean they could be trusted. Instead, one of the two growled threateningly and made a demanding gesture for Zamiel to move on.

Seeing that these two didn't belong to the rebellion, but that they must find him an unremarkable fool, Zamiel nodded once more and motioned for his people to follow him. A air of vague disappointment seemed to follow him, also. If the palace guards couldn't be trusted, tonight's work would be much more difficult. Star shrugged it off, deciding that she hadn't counted on it being easy in the first place; but as she passed under the narrowed, suspicious, almost hungry gaze of the sentinels, a shiver raced down her spine.

Now that she looked one of them right in the face, something seemed odd about him. More than odd. Just plain _wrong_ , she felt in her very soul.

"Zan, something isn't right," she whispered once they had passed.

"Of course something isn't right," he whispered back. "We're walking into the place where the Dragon Lord lives. What did you expect?"

"Well, I didn't expect to be growled at, or stared at quite like that. I thought they would eat me alive and whole!"

"The guards within these walls haven't been allowed out since they left the academy. They will be worse than any other, and have no knowledge of the rebellion. I honestly wasn't surprised by our warm welcome."

"Oh. That's a comfort…"

Taking a deep breath together, the two gathered their courage and stepped at last into those foreboding walls. Immediately, Star felt all her senses be accosted and overwhelmed. It was dazzlingly bright inside, a rude contrast to the pleasant twilight outside. She had smelled spices and incense heavy on the air even as they had been carried up the hill; now it surrounded her from every side, nearly chocking her. The gentle, distant sound of stately music was louder all at once, echoing with terrible loudness in the cavernous corridors.

It was all so much so suddenly, Star began to feel faint. She tried to take a deep breath, but the thick, sickeningly sweet air stuck in her throat and made her cough instead. Zan was heroically biting back a coughing fit of his own and clearing his throat painfully. Just in front of them, Zamiel was even sneezing without bothering to pretend he was alright. Many people behind them could be heard doing the same.

As if a trap had been laid right here at the front door, to trick all of Central Control into making fools of themselves when they were so dressed up and excited.

Before them was a long hallway, flanked on either side by five men like the ones they had met outside. None could be told apart from the others in any way. As the army marched past, all felt the cold gaze of twenty hungry eyes watching them.

There were ten of them in all. They could have easily been a Central Control squadron like any other. But as Star walked past each of them, she felt the sense of something being terribly wrong growing in her. If this _was_ a squadron like any other, where were the differences between them? The varied shapes and sizes that all squadrons had? How could ten men all be the exact same height, and carry the same build? And plainly they were _all_ men – how were there no women among them? Star had never heard of such a thing.

She was sure that Zamiel was looking them over and wondering the same things for himself.

That uncomfortable march ended at last, and now Star found herself nearly stumbling into the grandest place she had ever seen – grander than she had ever been able to imagine. The great hall they had emerged into was pillared, marbled, painted in rare colors and hung with marvelous tapestries. A band of perhaps twenty people played fine music in what seemed a tiny corner of that enormous space. The rest of the floor was already filled with people in splendid costume, dancing in complicated steps which Star was relieved to find she knew.

The steps of that dance led people to spin into the hands of many different partners. She self-consciously clung closer to Zan, making up her mind to not join in any dances like that. If she let go of him for any reason, she was terrified she might not find him again.

Zan huffed to himself, and she could feel him rolling his eyes. "Look at them," he commented. "Northside officers, who came fashionably early in their personal carriages, in their fashionable costumes, as if they own the place. They'll look up any second now, see us in our _habikule_ and plain masks, and know at once where we've come from."

Star could share his disdain. As she gazed over these women from Northside in their tight corsets and voluminous gowns, the real jewels on their masks winking in the light, she felt her cheeks growing red with embarrassment. Less than an hour ago, she had looked in a mirror and thought she looked like a princess. Now, she felt pathetic and tiny, only a fraction as beautiful as she had thought.

Zan looked down at her, sensing her mood, and gave her an encouraging smile. "Oh, whatever," he decided, squaring his shoulders and leading her boldly into the throng. "If anyone here thinks they can outmatch you, they're dead wrong. The queen herself won't be half as beautiful as you."

Impossibly cheered, Star grinned back. The smallness that had filled her was gone in a flash. Once again, she felt every inch the princess his princely heart deserved.

Ignoring the lofty stares and wrinkled noses of the other dancers, they walked with their heads held high into the next dance. Suddenly filled with confidence, Star couldn't see what could really go wrong tonight.

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The mood was very different at Bhlai House. Unable to go to the ball, the rest of Star's family had nothing left to do but wait around for some sign that the rebellion had begun at last, so that they, too, could fight for their freedom. And so everyone in the house had armed themselves and settled somewhere to try and keep calm. Windows had been opened to let in the fresh evening air; and with it came the distant sound of music from the palace. The ball had begun, and all the city could hear it.

It was now or never, indeed.

Forley had a borrowed knife thrust into his belt, and found that his fingers kept twitching impatiently toward it. He was unused to having a real weapon so close at hand, and figured that he should spend his waiting getting familiar with where it was. If he went to grab it and missed, disaster could follow. His life, or the life of someone he loved could be lost. Now of all times, he couldn't afford such a terrible mistake.

It was too much to ask him to sit still while he waited. He drifted around the house, looking in on his friends and family whenever he chanced across them. He asked them if all was well, if they knew where their weapons were, if there was anything they needed. If they needed help, he gave it. Though he was tense with nerves, he surprised himself by hiding it well from them.

He had become quite the leader over the last few years, he realized. When he had come of age, it had been hard to tell whether he was a boy of twelve or eighteen. Only two years later, his time in Habaharan had changed him in ways he hadn't noticed until just now. He walked taller and straighter, his head full of wisdom and compassion rather than pranks and mischief. He put the safety of others before his own, not just because he loved them or because he had something clever to gain for his trouble. He did it because all life mattered to him now, as it never quite had before.

It dawned on him that his Traveler grandfather, for whom he had been named, would have been too proud of him for words. Forley had to smile at the idea. He allowed himself to imagine how similarly proud his living parents would be, when he came home and they saw the man he had become.

He climbed to the third floor, wondering who he would find lurking there. Thora and Simon were on the first, sitting by the fire with curved knives held stiffly in their laps. Zeel and Leah were on the second, quietly making their own plan of attack, while Evan dozed in his mother's arms. That only left a few others on the third…

He wasn't surprised that Alanis was pacing by herself in the common room. She had dressed herself carefully for a battle in close-fitting clothes and sturdy boots, her waist bound and protected by a tough leather girdle he didn't recall her owning. Her long hair, almost always flowing and loose, was now braided and bound around her head and out of her face. For the first time since they had arrived in the city, her father's stolen sword was strapped to her belt, perhaps ready and waiting to taste Zebak blood once again. Perhaps for one last time.

Forley couldn't quite remember a time he hadn't found Alanis stunningly beautiful. This moment, as she paced around in a fever of impatience, being her truest self, was no exception. Ready for the battle she had been training for all her life, she took his breath away.

She paused her pacing for a second to look up at him, then shook her head and went right back to it. "I don't like this," she grumbled. "A fight is about to break out, and I'm stuck here as always while Star's gone and got herself stuck in the thick of it. I should be there with her."

Still smiling and admiring her, Forley stopped her pacing altogether by taking her by the shoulders and turning her face to his. "It can't be helped, my dear," he told her. "Our time will come, shortly. In an hour or two, I don't think your pale skin will make much of a difference on the open street. Everyone in this city will be fighting for their lives, and their freedom. We will be no different, then."

"But I can't protect her where she is," Alanis insisted, anger and frustration in her lovely face. "All my life I've protected her, from threats and bullies and bee stings – even from my own mother and her great plans, from time to time. And now when she needs me the most, she deliberately goes where she knows I can't follow. My father and brother would be disappointed in me, I think."

"They wouldn't blame you, Alanis. They would know it can't be helped. We both know they would blame Star, for being so stubborn and brave."

"Father was never able to follow him," Alanis went on in a much quieter voice, turning her gaze to the floor. "It always grieved him that whenever Rowan was in danger, he was never able to be of any use to him. He always just ended up in the way, with a useless sword in his hand, unable to fight those battles. I had hoped Star and I could be different, in that way…"

"Well, the fact of the matter is that it hasn't happened that way, for good or ill. That can't be helped, either. Follow your father's example, then. What did he do, in those moments?"

Alanis shrugged sadly. "He waited in silence, and in terror for someone he loved dearly, unable to do anything of use. Just like I'm doing now. Mother always lamented that I am my father's daughter, through and through. Look how right she was."

Forley sighed heavily, wishing he could take his suggestion back. He also wished desperately that Strong John could be there in his place, to give her the encouragement she sorely needed. If he had been there, he would have told her to take heart and have courage. He would have reminded her to check her sword and make sure the edge was good and sharp, and to do a few thrusts with it to test her balance. He would have laughed his merry laugh, pleased that she had kept up her practice in her long solitude, and challenged her to a friendly duel to take her mind off her troubles. He would have told her that he was proud of his little bear cub, and held her close without fear of being called weak for it.

But he wasn't there, and Forley regretted that he couldn't do any of those things for her. Well, he could… But none of it would be the same. In any case, she wasn't in the mood to hear any of it. He wracked his brain for something he could do to cheer her, just by being himself. It wasn't much, he supposed, but was what he had.

He left her for a moment, just to throw one of the windows open. At this point, he decided, it made little difference if someone did happen to look in and see her there. What would they do, summon a guard to storm the house? All of Southside's officers were at the ball by now, and all of them were with the rebellion, anyway. Alanis must had figured the same, for as the cool breeze and distant music wafted into the room, she made no move to stop him.

"We could use the fresh air," he said as he returned to her side. "It will clear our heads for what is to come. How long has it been since you've breathed fresh air? Too long, I should think. And just listen to that music! It's fit for dancing to, don't you think?"

Alanis gave him a weak smile, touched by his effort, but not really cheered. "I don't feel much like dancing just now."

"If there's time to breathe, there's time to dance," he insisted, taking her hands as she tried to turn away. "You need this. Trust me."

She tried halfheartedly to pull away from him, but didn't seem to have the heart to turn him down. He chose an easy dance, one which they had both known from childhood. Alanis recognized it and smiled faintly, no doubt remembering the many times they had danced it together.

"You taught me these steps," she recalled thoughtfully. "It was springtime, and the Travelers were due soon, and I wanted to join their dancing for the first time. And so you gave me a gift."

"Several gifts," Forley corrected. "I taught you many of their dances that week – or I tried to, anyway – but you were always best at this one."

To his pleasure, Alanis finally laughed a bit. "I take after my father in that way, too. I only wish I was a better student. Then perhaps we would dance like this all the time."

"I believe we shall," he agreed. "We should begin our wedding this way, what do you think?"

For a split second, Alanis looked shocked. Their feelings and hopes for the future had been plain to each other for years, but neither had spoken so plainly about it before. That moment passed in a flash, though, and her smile returned. Stronger and brighter this time.

"I would like that very much," she answered. She sighed and dared to let her head fall against Forley's shoulder, and now it was his turn to be a bit shocked. With so much danger to be faced, she seemed to feel quite safe and happy for the first time in weeks. But he smiled and held her close, all the same.

"I know we never really discussed it," he went on, clearing this throat nervously. "I think, honestly, we looked at each other one day and just silently agreed that we must happen someday. Then we went about with that understanding, as if it were already written in stone, and that was that."

Alanis snorted and said, "I honestly can't remember if that happened before or after we left Rin. But I've always understood it in my heart. I don't normally take its word for important things, but it was just too true to ignore."

"Our fathers know this already, I believe; they've probably been placing bets on us since we were babies. My mother, I can already hear squealing with joy over us. Your mother, I can also hear squealing, though for a very different reason…"

Alanis made a disgusted noise. "Then don't worry over her. I'm not the same person I was before; that aside, I, too, am of age and can't be told _not_ to do anything. She tried her best, while she could, to match me with someone who suited her. Now, I may marry as I like, and no one can stop me."

"She will still try to sway you away from me. I doubt if she will ever trust me, no matter who I've become."

"Nothing is strong enough to sway me from you, Forley. You should know that by now."

That idea filled his heart nearly to bursting. And in that fullness, he saw what he had to do. It was the right and honest thing to do, and it deserved to be done. He released her, taking just her strong hand in his own, and lowered himself onto one knee. Above him, Alanis' face seemed pale and radiant as the moon, not in the least bit surprised, but overjoyed.

"Time is short, my dear. We've been so careless in this silent understanding, and that's fine; but it's not the same as being said out loud. So, while we still have a few minutes, I want to ask you properly: Alanis, if we ever get home, will you marry me?"

Grinning her lovely grin, Alanis knelt beside him and let her forehead rest against his.

"While we still have a few minutes, let me answer you properly: _when_ we get home, of course I will."

In the face of all that lay before them, Forley felt that he could rest on that promise. This moment hadn't come about at all as he had always thought it might, and it hadn't looked as he had ever planned it to; but it had come about better than he ever could have designed on his own. It had turned out to be one of those rare and perfect moments of life. He was too overcome to think that he would remember it exactly for the rest of his life, to speak of it to their children and grandchildren in days to come, and still recall it as though it happened yesterday when he could no longer recall his own name.

But he would, in time. Now, as they embraced and kissed and reveled in their great joy, that future was still far away. It still needed to be fought for and won. They could now join that fight without the nervousness or grimness that had held them, but with determination and a fierce new hope. They now had a life to be lived and a promise to keep.

And neither of them had ever been one to break promises.

Footsteps were coming up the stairs, all at once. The two jumped up in surprise, and Leah appeared in time to see them scrambling to their feet.

"No need to put on a show for me, you two," she teased as lightly as she could, though her voice was very tight. "Whatever are you two up to?"

Forley would have blurted out the happy news to his sister at once. Alanis spoke first and said quickly, "It's nothing, really, we were just talking."

Leah raised her eyebrow at her friend, wondering very much what she was plainly hiding. Then she shrugged it off and rubbed her arm anxiously. "Zeel and I were just making plans for what to do about the children, when the time comes. She hates to have to do it, but she's taken some myrmon from Thora's stores, and she plans to put Evan to sleep and hide him somewhere safe."

Forley and Alanis exchanged a wary glance. It did, indeed, seem awful to have to drug such a small child. But even a few drops of myrmon on a cloth could send a large person into a deep sleep. Under its effect, the rather loud little boy would be safe enough. What else could be done, to keep him from being found and destroyed at once?

"Obviously, we can't drug Vivi and Zizi the same way," Leah went on. "That's fine, they're old enough to know to keep quiet and out of sight. We suppose we will leave Evan with them, or at least they will know where to find him. In any case, we have a plan all worked out for them to follow, and I was just looking for them to explain it all. Have you seen them?"

Forley shrugged. "I had kept my eyes open in my wandering around the house, but I haven't seen them in a while. I assumed Zizi would stick close to you all night."

"I had assumed the same," Leah agreed, "but he went off on his own. I thought they might be up here in their rooms."

"Feel free to look," Alanis answered. "I thought I was up here alone for the last hour, but perhaps I was mistaken. If they are up here, they're being awfully quiet."

Frowning in puzzlement, Leah fixed her spectacles and went off across the common room. When she was past their hearing, Forley turned to Alanis with beseeching eyes.

"Why didn't you tell her?" he whispered. "Or at least, why didn't you let _me_ tell her? She should know about us."

Alanis looked up at him with a rare mischief in her emerald eyes. "We'll surprise everyone later, when we've won the battle, and our freedom. Think of the sensation we will cause."

Forley grinned back, liking the idea quite a lot. Then Leah came back, shaking her head and looking more puzzled.

"Their room is as it always is, but Vivi and Zizi are nowhere to be found," she announced. "Brother, are you sure you haven't seen them?"

Now it was Forley's turn to frown. "Curiouser and curiouser," he mused. "They must be in the house, of course. They promised to stay put tonight, where we can keep them safe. However, if we've misplaced them so badly, I know just the way to find them again."

He cleared his throat again and said in a loud voice, "Well, we can't go off to battle on an empty stomach, now can we? I'd say we could all use come _cake_ right about now!"

He waited for a moment, expecting the two children to come bursting out of their hiding place. But it remained utterly still, and neither of them appeared. So Forley shrugged and headed back to the stairs.

"Oh well, they must not be up here after all," he said. "Come on, follow me, ladies. We'll find them soon enough, if we keep mentioning cake like this."

When they repeated his process all over the second floor and still received no answer, Forley felt a terrible sense of unease rising in him. When they regrouped, Leah looked increasingly upset, and even Alanis seemed worried.

Refusing to let his unease show in front of them, Forley mustered a confident smile and even made himself laugh lightly. "Alright, I know what's happened. They've heard us going around the house hollering about cake, and so they've run to the kitchen ahead of us, to take it all for themselves. And they'll find a whole one I brought home, too. Ah, Vivi will have scarfed half of it down by now; she will be covered in crumbs and frosting, but she will insist that she found the cake that way. But Zizi, ever the honest little fellow, will tattle on her at once. And that mystery will be solved, and we can all get on with our plans."

Alanis and Leah nodded and mumbled in agreement, though they, too, were hoping against hope that it would prove true. The two girls, still wary of being seen on the first floor, hovered at the top of the stairs while Forley dashed down them into the common room.

Seeing that Thora and Simon hadn't moved, he dared to ask, "Have the little ones been through here recently?"

Simon began grumbling to himself, but Thora nodded right away.

"They were headed toward the kitchen," she said. "Oh, but that was more than an hour ago. Just as well they clean out my cupboards, I suppose. Better it all gets eaten up and enjoyed, than going to total waste."

Doing his best to smile his thanks, Forley darted into the kitchen. To his increasing dismay, the room was empty. However, his cake had been uncovered, and a good deal of it was missing. A telltale trail of crumbs led off and away… And out the open backdoor.

His heart seemed to stop dead in his chest at the sight. It could mean only one thing. He flung the door wide and looked all around the alley outside, calling the names of the children he loved so much. But there was no answer.

Despairing over what he was going to tell his sister, Forley turned slowly back into the house and saw the pantry door easing open. To his enormous relief, Zizi's shaggy head and ruby eyes were peeking out. The boy seemed sad and frightened, but Forley was just glad to have found one of the two. He shut the backdoor behind him and went to give the child a hug.

"Well, now, is this where you've been?" he asked. "We've been looking all over for you, you know. What are you doing in the pantry? And where is your silly sister?"

Zizi squeezed his eyes shut and bowed his head. Sniffling, he thrust a scrap of paper into Forley's hands.

"I tried," he mumbled. "I – I tried, but – but I couldn't – and she – she won't listen to me! Never, ever! I'm sorry!"

He was nearly in tears by now. Forley looked down at the note and his heart sank again at the poorly written, but at least properly spelled words.

 _Gone to do the thing. Be back soon. Sorry, but I had to. Will stay safe, promise._

Suddenly, Forley was positively furious. He crumpled the note in his fist and let a growl burst out of him. Then he snatched Zizi into arms and marched out of the kitchen.

"I told her to stay put," he nearly shouted. "I told her to forget this madness! She promised to stay here tonight, where I could protect her! How could she do this to us?"

Ignoring Thora and Simon's curious stares as he stormed past them, Forley stomped back up the stairs to the second floor. Alanis and Leah seemed to have heard him shouting, as well, for they both looked horrified. Seeing Zizi, at least, their faces were filled with relief.

Leah hurriedly took the sobbing child in her own arms, trying to soothe him and asking what was wrong. She watched as Forley passed the crumpled note to Alanis, who scanned it with disbelieving eyes.

"What does she mean, 'the thing'?" Alanis demanded, shaking her head. "Surely, she's not… She's not stupid enough to – "

"Evidently, she is," Forley interrupted. "The idea's never left her, though we've told from the first to forget it."

The anger left him as suddenly as it had overtaken him, and now he felt sick with fear and loss. It was crushing, to have been so happy and hopeful just minutes ago, and now be so filled with grief. He let his face fall into his hand and said what was in all their minds.

"Vivi has gone to steal the Dragon Lord's diadem, armed only with her own wits and charm and a plan we've never seen."

"We have to go after her," Leah burst out immediately. "She can't have gone far, can she? Forley, you must have an idea of where she's headed."

"To the sewers, naturally," Alanis put in, her tone level and practical in spite of her worry. "She'll have gone to meet Keids, I think. She won't stay there for long, just to check in and say hello, perhaps to pick up a few special supplies she couldn't find here. Zizi, what do you think? Is this what she's done?"

Zizi was still crying and looking terribly ashamed for not being able his sister. But he nodded a bit without raising his head. It was enough for Alanis, who nodded back in thanks.

"Then we know where she is," she went on in triumph. "And we know that if we hurry, we could catch up and stop her. Forley, you know where the pirate's den is – you've been several times by now, once or twice on your own. You could do this easily."

Again, Forley was surprised at how suddenly things had changed in a few short minutes. Alanis and Leah were both looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to agree with them, and wondering at his hesitation. Zizi was also watching him, his face blank and his eyes still filled with tears.

He was still getting used to people looking to him for leadership and decisive action. A few years ago, Alanis wouldn't have bothered looking to him for anything at all; she would have formed this plan, checked that her sword was still in place, and marched down to the sewers to do it herself. She would have taken it for granted that Forley would follow her, mostly to be in her way and annoy her. But now she expected him to helpfully add to her design, and carry it out where she could not.

Forley hated to disappoint her, so shortly after bringing her so much happiness. But he looked around the house in his mind, considered all their meager resources, and thought of the storm that was coming. He looked at Zizi, safe for the moment, and thought of how he would have to hide and cower in fear of being discovered. He thought of how Evan would have to be drugged, if he had any prayer of surviving the night.

He shook his head and said, "I'm not leaving this house now. We're safe here, and need to stay together."

The girls gasped at him, and Leah began stammering in shock. "But – But you can't just – "

"We promised we would stay together for this," Forley went on, more sharply than he had meant. "I can't help it if Vivi's broken that trust. In any case, I'm sure that Keids knows what she's up to, and will detain her as best he can; he doesn't want her lost any more than we do. And besides… With all that's about to unfold, perhaps its best if she's down there, in the sewers, where none of the queen's men will think to look. I doubt if she could be safer anywhere else in this city."

Sighing sadly, he ruffled Zizi's hair and said, "I almost wish she had taken our brave little guys with her. Now that I think of it, I'm not so worried about Vivi anymore; she can take care of herself."

Alanis and Leah looked between each other, saddened at having to leave Vivi to her own fate. Zizi went on crying into Leah's shoulder, clinging to her for comfort, plainly heartbroken over what his sister had done to them.

 _It's a lot of hands taking up a lot of destiny tonight,_ Forley thought to himself. _I only hope there's enough destiny to go round…_

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Vivi's handwriting is in Chiller font, by the way. ;D

I didn't mean for Alanis and Forley to take up so much of this chapter, but I also don't mind because we never get to see obvious proposals in Rodda stories. I hope you've enjoyed watching their romance blossom and grow, as much as I've enjoyed cultivating it. It's so funny, looking back on reviews from a few years ago and seeing who people guessed Forley would be shipped with. So many people thought it was Star, at first. Then one or two people thought it might even be Iris. Silly fools, _clearly_ he is meant to win the heart of the princess. 8D

Let me also say, I'm an enormous fan of how _everyone_ assumed from day one that Forley would be part of a major ship. Well, here it is! (Surprise!)


	13. Chapter 12: Heist

Lol, I recall one or two people reviewing way back when about Vivi's idea to steal the diadem. That it was just like her to think of, but unlikely to actually happen. It's impossible, and she's smarter than that, right?

And I laughed and laughed and laughed, because that's _exactly_ what this chapter has been about for, like, two years. 8D

More of how Lindsey Stirling actually wrote this whole story, this sequence takes place entirely to a song of hers by the same name. If this chapter were animated, almost every action I've written would take place exactly to it. That might explain why it only took me two hours to type up. :P

This song also helped inspire Vivi and Zizi's theme song in my head; and if you take a listen, you'll perhaps find that it fits Vivi perfectly. Perhaps. I feel like I've used that word way too much lately…

(On a related note, her song _ZiZi's Journey_ may be the reason Zizi is named Zizi, and also why _Star's Journey_ is called _Star's Journey_. Yeah. I've been writing this for that long. And yeah. I let Lindsey Stirling make all my decisions. Don't judge me.)

Anyway.

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 _Chapter 12: Heist_

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If only Forley could have been in the pirate den just then, he would have been beside himself with terror and rage. Vivi had, of course, explained her mission to Keids, with nothing but her usual enthusiasm. And as Forley had hoped, Keids first instinct had been to tell the girl what madness it was and to stop her. To tie her down to something, even freeze her feet in a bock of ice, if he had to.

But then the wise old pirate had paused and rubbed his mouth thoughtfully, listening carefully to the flow of deep magic that guided his life. It had been telling him all sorts of things lately, many of which went against his natural train of thought. Then he had shrugged faintly and grinned at her.

"De tides be a'turnin, dey do," he had told her. "An' good ol' magic's a'thick in did air an' all dem waters. Dat gon guide ye straight, Vivi girl. Go on, den, and pinch ol' diadem from under de queen's wicked ol' nose. Go on, an' steal us back our source o' power!"

Thrilled that she had at least one person's actual blessing, and that someone actually believed in her, Vivi had hugged her dear teacher goodbye and run off through the sewers in the way she had planned. Finding the right way had taken a lot of research, and she had poured through a mountain of books to find it; but it had proven a worthwhile search.

She had left her nice clothes behind and threw her tattered old ones on nearly as soon as Star and the Garaseds had left; everyone had been too busy waving goodbye to notice when she slipped out the backdoor with a decent chunk of a cake in her hands. She had taken nothing with her but an empty satchel, to carry her prize home in. She had written her plan down, to see all her maps and ideas in one place; but she had memorized it all and no longer needed it to see her way by.

Now she scrambled up a metal ladder in the darkness of a tunnel, and pushed a manhole cover aside enough to peek out. All she could see was a deserted forge yard, cast in deep shadows by the fading sunset. She could hear music humming in the air, very close by. She knew this was the place.

Wasting no more time, she popped up out of the manhole, thrust the cover back in place, and took off running in the direction she knew she had to go.

This yard was on many of the maps she had seen. It was near the back of the palace, where the queen herself rarely bothered going. It was also the most direct way to where she knew the diadem was normally kept when set aside. This side of the palace faced Southside, and was mostly a place for its enslaved workers to live and be and do their work. That meant that it would be rougher and worn. That meant there would be more things to climb, and that the wall would be easier to scale with her bare hands.

Keids had taught her all her life how to make cunning, miraculous escapes. He had taught her to run, jump, twist and flip – to literally skip away from anyone, as she often said, though that was the least of what she knew how to do. The trick, he had always told her, was to just keep moving. To build up that momentum and keep it going, no matter what came into her way. It could propel her to incredible speed and height, which no guard could hope to match.

So Vivi did exactly that. She launched herself fearlessly onto and over everything that lay in her way – onto stacked crates, onto the thatched roof above the open forge, and further still onto window ledges as though it was nothing. When there were no more window ledges above her, she pressed herself against the rough wall and gazed high over head. Already she was up two stories; and another two stories above her head, there was a balcony. She could see rich curtains fluttering on the breeze, another window.

Vivi grinned at her good luck. Not only was that balcony and its window exactly where there were supposed to be, it was all open wide and just ready to let her inside the palace itself. She whipped a pair of knives from her belt and thrust them into the cracks between the bricks in the wall. She began to pull herself up, one brick at a time. The wind was whipping past her now, ruffling her curly hair and blowing dust from the bricks into her eyes. She blinked at it and dared to look down, just for the fun of it. She knew that such a sight would have made most people weak in thee knees and caused them to fall to a painful death, but she grinned to see how far up she was. She had come so far, so quickly. Feeling enormously proud of herself and excited to be up so high, she continued to climb.

All too soon, she was pulling herself with a neat little flip over the balcony railing. Now she found herself staring through a great pair of open doors and down a long, dark hallway. It looked about as she had imagined it would, with deep red carpet lining the floor, and towering pillars against vaulted walls, and dimly burning lamps standing at attention between each one. Vivi wasn't terribly impressed with it; she felt that it was all entirely too expected. She was far more impressed with how the wide open doors before her seemed to resemble gaping jaws, inviting her to step inside and be swallowed whole.

That was a challenge to her. She lunged low for a good running start, and took off like an arrow down that hallway. Her way from here was simple enough. If she was quick about it, she could be out of the palace in less than fifteen minutes. The faster she started off, the faster it would be over and done.

How funny, she thought, that most people feared with all their hearts to enter the palace for any reason. She had just done so easily, almost carelessly. She had absolutely no fear of being caught, for she had planned her visit with all her craftiness. Her way was straightforward, and her way back was just as simple. This wasn't frightening; it wasn't even anything to be nervous about. She had infiltrated the palace all by herself, and not one person inside had a clue! Not even Star and Zan, who were here in these halls somewhere, probably dancing a stupid dance in their stupid clothes, probably being very mushy and gross like lovers were, and feeling terribly nervous about being here.

Vivi considered for a split second that she could take a few minutes to figure out where they might be, and go look in on them. This whole ball thing was terribly stupid, but she was a bit curious to see what such a thing looked like. Not to mention the looks on her friends faces, if they saw her spying on them. But she mentally shook the notion away and focused all the harder on her plan. It was a good plan, and it was going just as she wanted it to. It would be no good to go on an unplanned adventure now.

All at once, just as she was coming to where another hall crossed her path, she heard voices and marching feet coming toward her. There was a growing light from around the corner, too. Vivi skidded to a halt and darted behind a pillar to wait. In a moment, a cruel-looking woman appeared with a lamp in hand, escorted by ten uniformed men. The guards were all dressed as Central Control officers, though their uniforms were strange to Vivi. The woman was a sight, as well. She was tall and thin as a shriveled old stick, dressed in murky black robes, her black hair stringy and savage.

And her face was so pale! White as salt, sharp as a blade, with no mark to be seen, and a scowl worse than the one Alanis always wore. She clearly wasn't Zebak in any way. Now that Vivi thought of it, the guards behind her didn't seem like her own people, either. Her sharp senses quivered at the sight of the gang.

The woman snapped her head the way Vivi had just come, and she sneered down the hallway.

"Fie one, Fie two, shut those doors at once," she commanded in a shrill voice. "Leave no entrance unbarred. I don't want anymore mistakes around this miserable hole."

Two of the guards left the group to march down the hall, grumbling to each other.

"Damn ticks," one of them muttered. "This is the most folly I've ever seen. And why do we have to listen to _her_?"

"Just shut up and do as she says, one," said the other. "Bellona is the one in charge. The master likes her best of the lot. She'll make short work of this wreck."

They laughed cruelly over this as they slammed those open doors shut and locked them. Then they turned and stalked back to their leader, and they might have seen Vivi, too…

Except that she had scrambled up the pillar while their backs had been turned, and was now perched on the base at its top. It was a perfect vantage point, and she saw all that came next.

"Who left those open?" Bellona demanded, mostly to herself. Turning to her men, she barked, "Have it looked into at once! Must I really do _everything_ around here?"

Vivi tilted her head to one side, wondering who this Bellona person was. She seemed to think that _she_ was queen. She sure gave orders like she was. But the two had rejoined the rest, and the woman turned and beckoned them to follow.

"This place is of special importance to us," she said. "The wretched stone is kept here. It isn't of great severity, but it will do to have in mind where it is. It isn't to be let out of its cell for any reason. It is safe where it is; but in _their_ hands, it could undo thousands of years of hard work and preparations. Is it perfectly clear, Fies?"

The guards all grunted together in agreement. Atop her pillar, Vivi couldn't be more pleased. She knew which room the diadem could be found in, but these people could give her a few useful clues. It was the source of her people's magic, after all. She suspected that it could be guarded with traps and magic, which people hadn't been able to write about in the books she had read. Something so precious couldn't possibly be left lying around to be picked up and walked off with. She had planned to deal with all that when she came to it and saw what it was, and cleverly avoid it as she avoided all trouble.

Now she would see and hear what it was exactly, and make better decisions faster. She followed them down the hall, leaping silently across the tops of the pillars. When they stopped right where she had known they would, she paused and crouched on the latest pillar to watch.

"This is the one," Bellona explained slowly, "fourth from the left. I have here the only key."

She slid the key into the lock and threw open the door. "Behold, the key of Heomiri, the devil of the desert, wretched son of the sun."

The ten guards all clustered around outside the door, jostling each other to get a look at what lay inside. One of them got a little too excited and stepped across the threshold, his hand reached out as if to touch whatever was inside. Bellona smacked his hand away and pushed him back in place.

"No, no, now, mustn't touch," she chided, wagging her bony finger at him. "Oh, waltz across this room and touch if you wish – there is nothing there to stop you in the slightest. But so much as graze that stone, and you will turn to ash!" She chuckled at the thought, and then rubbed her fingers together in what appeared to be fear. "We… Are not able to touch such things… You, of all of us, should know that!"

"Which one is it?" one of them asked dumbly. His question was rewarded with a swift blow to the head.

"The black one, you idiot!" Bellona screeched at him. "The others are decoration only, a fake symbol to these fools who still believe that the elements can save them. But the great black one in the center is the Zebak source of magic – a danger to the master and all his plans."

Another one of the guards barked a laugh. "How could that big ugly thing be such a danger to one as great as the master?"

Bellona sneered and pushed her way through the crowd to smack him, too. "That's exactly the sort of thinking that's got me stuck here with these creatures in the first place! Curse me! You Fies are as witless and stupid as your namesake! You've seen the blasted thing, and that is all that matters. We are done here!"

She looked into the room and left a looked of terrible contempt to the thing inside. Vivi couldn't help shuddering; it was the ugliest, nastiest look she had ever seen on a person, and she had seen the worst that Habaharan had to offer. The woman slammed that door shut and locked it the a vengeance. Then she turned again and ordered her doltish band to follow, cursing them and her bad luck all the way. In short moments, they had continued up their own hallway and were gone.

Vivi waited until it was completely silent before she slid all the long way down the pillar. She darted across the hall to the fourth door from the left and knelt to examine the lock. For all that Bellona had the only key, it was a simple lock, easily picked. Vivi pulled one of her knives out and went to work on it. She smiled to herself, remembering that Zeel had done something like this in her youth, right here in this city.

While she picked the lock, she thought of all she had just witnessed. Nothing about it seemed right to her.

 _What did she mean, they can't touch such things?_ She wondered. _And what master was she talking about? She must have meant the queen, but I'm not so sure anymore… But who else could it be? Who were those people? Where did they come from? Wherever it is, they sure aren't getting back anytime soon. They're stuck here good, just like Star and Zeel and all the rest._

The lock gave under her knife, and she pushed those wonderings away for the moment. Resolving to tell Keids all about it later, she cracked the door and slipped inside, shutting it closed and taking a good look at where she was.

Or, she tried to. Immediately, her eyes were drawn to something wondrous in the room's center. There was a raised altar there, covered with a cloth of scarlet, gold, and black. There were a few things resting upon it – a scepter, a ring with a huge red jewel, a pair of daggers attached by a long chain, and…

The diadem. Sitting upon a purple cushion was the glorious diadem of the Dragon Lords. It was a circlet of gold and silver, its top and bottom lined with points like the fangs and fins of a dragon. The center bore the gems Bellona had spoken of with so much distaste: a ruby, a sapphire, an emerald, and a diamond. The symbolic stone of the elements, in the same order Vivi recognized from all sorts of places. It was always Fire, Water, Earth, and Air – in prophecies, riddles, history books, and even on Zeel's wedding ring.

Outshining all the rest was a polished black stone, largest of all, sitting just beneath the others. Vivi's eyes were wide at it. She had never seen something to perfect and lovely in all her life. Her mind couldn't even think of how expensive or what a prize it was. The rest of the diadem could be thrown away, really. The great black stone was all that mattered in the world.

She tilted her head again and raised an eyebrow directly at the black stone. Suddenly, her head was filled with a silent voice, calling her by name, and by names she didn't even know she had, but she knew that they were hers. It was a gentle voice, but full of might and power. And it was calling her to come closer, to get a better look. To touch it, even, if she wanted to.

Vivi had never known such a feeling before. If Star had been with her, she would have smiled and told her that it was the deep magic which was her birthright. Vivi didn't know any of this, and was honestly a bit frightened by it. She pressed herself against the door, trying to decide what she would do, now that she was here and _this_ was happening.

But the obsidian talisman continued calling all her names, and soon it was too much to ignore. Sheer curiosity won over, and she slowly made her way across the room. She couldn't have torn her gaze away from the stone if she had really tried or wanted to. The thought of just brushing her fingers against it was suddenly all she could think of. Bellona's warning that such a thing would turn her to ash drifted into her mind, and she asked herself if it was worth the risk.

The stone's silent call seemed to promise that it was well worth the risk, but Vivi wasn't so sure. There was much she suddenly wasn't so sure of. She had prepared herself to face all manner of tricks and traps; but she was far from prepared for what she had found.

She stopped before the altar, still gazing with a growing longing at the diadem. She ached to reach out and touch it, but still she was afraid. She hated to be afraid of anything. That idea, of being frightened of something so much smaller than she was, suddenly made her a bit angry with herself. Slowly, she reached out and put one finger against the black stone.

Nothing happened. No searing pain, no abrupt poof of smoke, no blast of magic. Absolutely nothing happened as she had expected. In fact, the summoning voice had left her head, too. Hardly able to believe herself, she slid her hands around the whole diadem and dared to lift it up off its cushion. She drew it close and looked it over, still waiting for some sort of change to come over her.

When nothing continued to happen, she allowed herself to relax. Then she began to giggle with pure glee. She had the diadem! She was holding it in her hands! She had done what all her friends had told her was impossible. And all her anxiety only moments before seemed outlandishly silly now. In her hands, against she ragged clothes and utterly still, it seemed like a gaudy, ordinary trinket any rich person might own.

While she stood there giggling, there came a sound from behind her. She stopped laughing and whipped her head around. Footsteps were approaching. Voices were growing louder. A key was jiggling in the lock, and the doorknob was turning…

Bellona had returned, and threw the door open once again. Her men weren't with her this time. Instead, there was only one person beside her. Splendid in a black gown and a mask like a black cat, was queen Zadina, herself.

"And tell me something, oh great one," the queen drawled. "Though watching you lock us out at first was amusing, I must know – _why_ _was the door left unlocked_?"

Bellona growled at her. "It was locked before, I am sure of it! I locked it myself!"

Zadina rolled her eyes behind her mask. "You must not have turned the key fully enough, then. Oh, this part of the palace is in a sad estate. Why, there isn't even magic to lock the doors here! Many of these locks stick in places. It could happen to any mere mortal. I will forgive you, this one time."

Bellona narrowed her eyes and said, "Happily for me, I am no mere mortal. Unlike you, oh great one."

The queen brushed boredly at her skirts. "I only wanted to see that the thing is in its proper place, with my own eyes. I should, I suppose, with all that's happening here in a few moments."

"Indeed," Bellona sneered as they turned away. "It would be nice to see you taking responsibility for your part in all this. For once."

"Just see that it doesn't happen again," Zadina snapped back as the door was shut once more.

And so it was, that for all their power and grand thoughts of themselves, neither of them saw Vivi, who had replaced the diadem and hidden herself behind the door just in time. She smirked at herself for being so clever, and then finally returned to her original plan. Outside the room's one window, the sky had grown dark, and the stars had come out. Vivi scolded herself. How long had she been in a staring match with the obsidian talisman? It appeared that a long time had passed, here in this room. A mission that should have taken minutes seemed to have taken perhaps an hour.

She wasted no more time. She dashed back to the altar and snatched the diadem from its cushion, thrusting it into her satchel with no further ceremony. She threw the window open and peered four stories down, pleased to see that a thick banner had been hung from the wall there. This would save her a long, careful downward climb. She pulled out her knives again and thrust them into that banner, flipping over the ledge and letting herself be dragged down, all the way to the ground.

A bit of a flamboyant exit, perhaps. But if one is to escape, she had always thought, why not do it with some style?

As soon as her feet touched the ground, she replaced her knives and checked to make sure her bag was fastened tight. Her stylish exit wasn't complete yet. The last part of it had also been planned, and would take a few more flips and twists to pull off. She took off running again, through another deserted work yard, toward a tall iron gate she had been expecting.

The manhole she had emerged from was around on the other side. She would have to clear the gate in order to get back. And, to her alarm, an elder in servant's garb had emerged from the shadows just ahead of her. Their eyes met for a brief second, but Vivi had no time to stop and panic. She had to keep going. Keep her momentum. If she lost it, there would be no way out. Her mind scrambled for a faster way over the gate.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed a long pole from against the wall as she continued to sprint ahead. The servant shouted in surprise as Vivi shoved one end of the pole into the ground and vaulted with ease over the gate.

She hadn't timed it quite as she would have liked, and just barely cleared it. She felt her back graze the top of the gate, and rolled clumsily to her feet as she hit the ground with full force. It wasn't her most graceful landing, and she had skinned her arms and knees in the process. Her wounds stung with dirt and air, and she hissed in pain as she gripped one elbow and kept on running.

She was glad that the forge yard she had come from was still empty, Behind her, she could hear the elder scrambling to unlock the gate and follow her. With all her strength and speed, she lifted the manhole cover and jumped inside.

Taking one last look behind her to make sure was still alone, she smiled a cheeky goodbye to the palace and lowered the cover.

She was gone, and her mission was complete.

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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Parkour. Vivi does parkour. Also, Bellona is the name of a Celtic goddess of war. (Its referenced in Macbeth. Look it up. ;D)

I hope you are properly on edge by what Vivi has just seen and heard. With luck, you are beginning to see what all this is leading up to…


	14. Chapter 13: The Trap

Stalling? What, me? Stalling? I'm not stalling. Look how _totally_ not stalling I am! Wait, wait… No, now….. Let me just – lemme see if I've got this straight, here, so… You think….. That… _I'm_ ….. Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssstalling…?

Well, I hope Vivi's little side quest perked you up, because the rest of this book is awful. Buckle your pants, friends. Habaharan is about to turn into hell.

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 _Chapter 13: The Trap_

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It had been an hour or two, now, that Star and Zan had been dancing and talking with other partygoers, and doing their best to be casual. There was food and drink on long tables against the walls, and many people had excitedly gorged themselves on it all, but it seemed that the rebels knew better. If the queen suspected a trap, who was to say those beautiful trays of food and bowls of wine hadn't been drugged? It would do no good to go into battle on an empty stomach, anyway.

Some of the fancy Northsiders had dared to approach the rebels and offer fey compliments on their costumes, while hiding coy smiles behind their hands and feathered fans. As Zan had guessed, the sight of poorer officers, reduced to wearing last century's fashion for such an enormous occasion, was amusing to them. However, one or two had surprised them.

"My, what weather we're having tonight," they had commented.

Squinting curiously at them, Star and Zan had cautiously answered, "Yes, clear enough to see the sunset."

And, seeing that they had understood each other, they had nodded graciously and parted ways at once. So, there were a few officers from Northside who had heard of the rebellion – perhaps through their own slaves and servants – and had answered the call. How nice it was, to not be completely alone in this sea of uncertainty.

Whatever signal Zamiel planned to give them, these people would rise to it with all the rest, and that was a blessing. But another hour dragged by, and it felt to Star that a long time had passed since she had seen or heard their leader. She had no idea what his signal would be, because he hadn't told anyone. For safety's sake, he had said. He had promised that they would know it when they saw it. The only thing she really knew was that he didn't plan to make his move until the queen was in the room with them, and she hadn't arrived yet.

It was vital to his plan that Zadina be there, to be targeted and hopefully brought down at once. That task lay largely with Star, herself, and the deep magic she hadn't told him she no longer carried. Only now did it cross her mind that while the Earth Sigil lay safe in Zan's hidden skirt pocket, she couldn't use it the way the rebels were counting on her to. And she couldn't warn him that this had changed, either. She had no idea where he was in the crowd. And even if she did, he would demand that she take it back and carry out her part of his plan. Her duty was to the Sigil, and she refused to think of ignoring it now, even though the situation looked more and more dire as she thought of it.

And what did it all even matter, if the queen never even appeared at her own ball? She had made a fuss about her own costume over the radio months ago, as if the sole purpose for this ball was for her officers to admire it. Yet hours had passed, and there was no sign that she would join the festivities any time soon. Star could only imagine that this long delay was driving Zamiel mad with impatience. The rebellion might have started some time ago, if things had gone as he had planned.

Perhaps Zadina had plans of her own…

A mask she recognized had seen hers, and was pushing its way to the crowd toward her and Zan. It was the fuzzy face of a squirrel, complete with round, flocked ears and stiff wire whiskers, and velveteen skirts with enough pockets to hide a great many treasures in. Star let out a sigh of relief as she pointed it out to Zan. It was Zak, the first of C-57 they had seen in a while, appearing just as relieved to see them.

"Some party," he said when he met them. "I'd be quite done with it and ready to leave about now, if you ask me."

"Agreed," Zan answered right away. "I'd take a gathering at Bhlai House over this nonsense, any day. Zak, where are your lenses? Can't you see?"

"Oh, I can see fine," he insisted, lifting his mask to show that he was wearing his spectacles underneath. "The mask maker took care during the casting to leave room for them. Awfully decent of her; I know she had to put some extra effort into it. So, hey, what about these guards tonight, huh?"

He glanced all around, at the guards stationed around the room. They were all exactly like the sentinels they had met outside, and the ten men leading the way into the ballroom. They, too, could have been regular guards held aside for the night; it wouldn't have surprised anyone if they had academy cadets serving a detention sentence. It would be common enough. But they plainly were not youngsters, and they were all far too alike for comfort. They could have been cast in clay from a mold, like a set of chess pieces.

And they were all standing a little too straight and still to be real, as though they were statues. Spaced evenly apart against every wall, Star had noticed them long ago. She had gotten a terrible feeling that they were surrounding the crowd on purpose, and Zak clearly agreed with her unspoken suspicion.

"You can't get a word out of them, but they sure do seem keen on growling if you come too close," he continued. "I tried joking with one of them, asking if he was a waiter, since he was standing so close to an empty tray on a table. I'm pretty sure he was going to bite my head off, if I hadn't backed away fast enough."

Zan hummed over this. "I had expected the queen's private force to be on the worst side possible, and at first I wasn't surprised by any of them. But they've turned out to be far more than I had imagined. They just don't seem… I don't know."

Lowering his voice, he went on, "Still, they are plainly men like any other. That means they can be cut down like any other. That, at least, makes little difference."

Zak nodded slowly and lowered his mask again. "I saw your brother recently, and he's nearly at the end of his rope with all this waiting around. For all his planning, he hadn't counted on the queen being so late. If she doesn't make an appearance soon, he is thinking to give us 'the sign' anyway. We're already here, and its been made clear that we won't be leaving without a fight, no matter who is or isn't here. Spread the word around, you two."

"Who else have you seen?" Star asked.

"Almost all the rest of us. The only one I'm missing is Zaneth; I haven't been able to find him anywhere. Perhaps he's spread his bat wings and flown off? Lucky brat, I wish I could join him."

Shrugging over it, Zak melted into the crowd to continue warning people. Star watched him until she could no longer pick him out, and thought about the command to tell everyone about the change in plan.

"There must be nearly a thousand people in this room," she pointed out uneasily.

"It's easily closer to three thousand," Zan grumbled back. "This is where the army is meant to gather in preparation for great battles. The Dragon Lord may stand before all the legions and speak to them at once about their mission, and assign them tasks before sending them forth. I believe the last time it happened was their last attempt to invade the Arin lands, when your parents came here as children. Zamiel might remember it; but Zaneth was a tiny baby, then, and I wasn't even a thought yet."

He made a face a voluptuous gown pressed into him, and he suppressed the urge to shove the woman out of his space. "It was made for men and women in tight fitting uniform, though. We could all fit in this room comfortably, without so much fashion crowding us all. I feel as though I can't breathe."

Star felt inclined to agree, as someone bumped into her, as well. Officers had continued to arrive well into the night; and more often than not, ladies had arrived in gowns with wide, full skirts with stiff hoops underneath. It was a lot of space for one person to take up. With so many people dressed this way, the huge room had filled up alarmingly fast, and now it felt that they were packed together like pickles in a jar. Moving freely was now a chore, and dancing had become impossible nearly an hour ago.

All that the legions of Central Control could really do now was mill around slowly, wading through each other as they might through a bog. It was clearly starting to bother them all, when they were so used to moving freely and doing as they pleased. Even the wealthy Northsiders were beginning to look uneasy; many had started fussing an complaining, tugging at their stiff collars and dabbing their faces with handkerchiefs.

The only available space left was a raised dias at the front of the room, with an empty throne in its center. That was the queen's space, and not one person dared violate it. Indeed, even the haughtiest of them avoided it with enormous caution. Yet still, that throne sat empty.

Star leaned close to him whispered, "Zan, how on earth are we supposed to attack this way? When Zamiel gives his signal, our people will do their best to follow him; but the rest will panic and try to run. People are going to be hurt, and held back. It's going to turn ugly fast."

"Yes, I can see that," he whispered back. "I'm sure my brother can see that, as well. But he is the mastermind, and he'll think of a solution. He always does. We can count on him, even if we can't count on anything else."

Star could do nothing but smile hopefully at that. There were so many doubts in her heart, and so many ways that this night would end badly. It was difficult to trust that they would pull through, just with Zamiel's quick thinking to guide them. But it was all they had now, and it had never failed them before. It would just have to be enough.

She glanced anxiously at the main entrance, the only one she had seen that wasn't being heavily guarded. To her annoyance, she saw another squadron filing into the hall. They must have been embarrassed to be so late, and aghast at the throng they were being squeezed into. At least, she reasoned, there were only two women among them, and their gowns weren't terribly full.

Then she frowned as the guards on either side of that one entrance moved from their places for the first time all night. Zan was watching, too, and she felt him grow tense as the pair took hold of the great mahogany doors and pushed them shut. The doors closed with a sickening thud, drawing the sudden attention of everyone present, and surely all felt a thrill of confused fear as a bar was thrust through them, baring them completely. The fanciest people were crying out, demanding in alarm to know what it was all about.

Zan and Star looked at each other in understanding, knowing perfectly well what was going on. The rebels and the queen were finally ready to spring their traps on one another. The queen had made her first move, by locking all of Central Control together in what had become uncomfortably close quarters. Many were dressed to impress her, unarmed and unprepared to fight for their lives. Escape was now impossible.

The rebels, dressed carefully and hiding weapons under their clothes, were about to surprise her badly. Escape was the last thing on their minds. Being locked inside the palace, with nowhere to go but further into it, was exactly what they had wanted from the beginning.

"Ah, so, we're all here at last."

That coy, chilling voice could have belonged to no one else in all the world. From nowhere, the Dragon Lord had appeared. Even across that crowded space, she was up high enough that Star got her first real look at the woman. For all that was happening, she was disappointed. The queen was in splendid costume like all the rest, and her face was covered with a mask. She was dressed in a black gown, her skirts twice as full as any Star had seen yet; her mask was plain by comparison, but had all the curves and points of a cat's sly face. It was stunning, in all its plainness. It was all she had promised on the radio it would be.

Behind her stalked a sharp, thin woman in no trace of a costume. In fact, she wasn't even trying to hide her pale, unmarked face. The woman stood aside, scowling over the crowd, while the queen settled herself comfortably into her throne. From a door hidden behind the throne, another squadron of ten gray men was filing to stand in a rigid line. Not just as an armed escort, but to wait for a command.

All talk and movement ceased abruptly. Everyone present of was Central Control, no matter how finely they were dressed. All had been trained from birth to stand at perfect attention before their ruler. Many had done so at once. Star could tell who the rebels around her were, by who had simply become still. Beside her, Zan was refusing to move to attention, though he was struggling against all his instincts. She had never seen him so defiant before. It seemed such a small thing, but she was so proud of him.

For a long moment, the queen was still. It was hard to tell with her mask in place, but Star could feel the woman's cold gaze sweeping back and forth over the crowd. Perhaps playing a game with herself, trying to guess which people were there to attack her. Perhaps she was looking for someone in particular.

Whatever the reason for her hesitation, no one dared to speak before she had spoken again. Even the band had gone silent at her sudden entrance, letting the lively tune they had been playing screech to a halt. It seemed as still as death itself in that enormous, crowded space.

Finally, the queen's face broke into a terrible grin, all the worse for the narrowed eyes of her mask.

"Oh, how simply charming," she purred. "You've all made it! I had hoped you might. What a grand evening I have planned for us all. It will make for a night this whole city will remember for generations to come, I think. Don't you, my dears?"

Most Northsiders began to applaud in agreement, and the rest felt inclined to follow along. Even Star raised her hands and clapped halfheartedly, not wanting to stand out. The queen enjoyed the noise for a moment, then held up her hand to silence them all.

"Shall we begin the festivities, then? Yes, let's not delay all the fun a moment longer. Pods Pik and Snik! Attend to me! Do your bidding!"

In one swift, perfect movement, the men against the walls animated for the first time. Short swords were drawn with a grating noise that seemed to fill the room, only to be drowned out by people's shouts of surprise and outrage.

Above all else, one voice rang out loud and clear.

" _Solaris's'ai'abra! Seb's'ai'yuka!"_

The Sun will rise. Dawn will come. So shouted the voice of Zamiel Garased, in his people's oldest tongue. It was the sign, and all his people were answering it. Lashes and daggers were being whipped out all around the crowd, and the rebels were chanting his viciously hopeful words, louder and louder every second. It was becoming a battle cry like none the Zebak lands had ever heard before.

Chanting and stamping her feet with all the rest, Star pulled her borrowed knife from her skirt pocket and held it high as Zan did the same. Blades were flashing menacingly in the dazzling light, like the scales of a sea serpent. For a long moment, the guards in gray were stunned at the sight and sound they hadn't been prepared for in the slightest. How suddenly this gathering of unwilling servants had found their voice. How quickly and easily they had mobilized. And there were a few thousand of them, even if many in the crowd were staring around them in confused horror. The guards numbered only twenty, at best. They almost looked frightened.

The queen and her escort, too, seemed surprised. The pale woman beside the throne was staring in disbelief at the spectacle, her black eyes wide and her thin mouth gaping like a pit. Zadina allowed all this, shocked and yet somehow not at all. For a long moment, she just continued to sit and watch, as if she were enjoying the sight. Only when she had tired of it did she raise her hand and snap something in another language. It was arcane and foul sounding, and it sent a bolt through Star's heart.

To her horror, she found that she had gone still. She was completely paralyzed, her knife still held over her head in what had been triumph only seconds before. The battle cry had vanished, as all of Central Control had been cursed to stillness, unable to fight back in anyway.

It was difficult to say how she knew this so well, without the Sigil to tell her so. Maybe so much power wasn't needed, to know the dark arts for what they were.

"Enough of this foolishness," the queen went on, the false sweetness gone. "Piks, Sniks, do as I told you! Haul them all downstairs, where we can keep an eye on them all."

Downstairs. As those guards chuckled cruelly amongst themselves and began grabbing hold of people, Star knew they all understand what their queen had meant. There was only one thing they could think of below the palace: the Central Dungeon.

"Lun pod, I have a special assignment for you," Zadina went on, speaking slowly to the squadron beside her, as if she didn't expect them to understand her. "The ten we were promised are in the crowd – nine of my own traitorous men, and a spare. Pay attention to what I say. There are a horse, a sheep, a raven, a squirrel, a mouse, a tiger, a lion, and a bee. That raving man in the dog mask is their leader. Find the lot and bring them to me at once, especially the bee! Deal as you wish with the others, but leave the little bee untouched. I have plans of my own for _that_ one."

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Little did Central Control's men and women realize, there was more than just the city's most frightening dungeon beneath the palace. In the hidden labs, doctor Halek Barret and his people were still going about their work, hardly aware that there was something so important happening above them. Their only clue that tonight was special had been the sound of distant music, muffled by stone and metal. But still, they had heard it. In fact, it had seemed a nice treat to them. Many had danced around the labs to it, enjoying the pleasant change. The doctor had even allowed his youngest workers to have the rest of the night off to revel in it.

He and Beiyu, his beloved apprentice, had been happy to just watch those children enjoying a moment of freedom. Their lives had been stolen from them at a young age, like all the others in the labs; and now they were expected to produce wonders until they no longer proved useful to their masters. Bindi, the youngest and most precious of them, was only seven years old, and couldn't remember anything but the unnatural lights, long tables, and white coats of the labs and its workers.

Bindi was small, perhaps, but there was fierceness in her heart and little room in her head for numbers and complicated science. She had no aptitude for this work, and clearly no patience for learning it. Her energy was refreshing to the rest of them, but they feared for her future. In the labs, those who couldn't adapt and be useful were always rooted out quickly. The doctor had seen it happen hundred of times, to colleagues, friends, even his own teachers. If he said that it had become easier to watch over the years, he would have been lying.

So why not let her sing and dance with the other little ones, he had decided grimly. It was devastating to know that she'd may as well, since her days were dangerously numbered. Better to leave her a moment of happiness, and leave a few fond memories for the rest of them.

When the faint music ended suddenly, it seemed as though a touch of light had left the labs. The children all groaned in disappointment, and the adults all sighed sadly. Beiyu looked up from her work and gazed toward the ceiling, as though she could see through all the floors above her.

"It seems a bit early for a royal party to be ending, don't you think, doctor?" she had pointed out. Her voice was mostly just curious; but the touch of unease there was impossible to miss.

Barret nodded slowly. "It does seem odd, my dear girl," he answered. "Her majesty has grown bored with it and called it to an end, no doubt. She had much on her mind lately, with all the visitors she's been receiving and the demands they've heaped on her."

Beiyu huffed to herself and went back to the plans she had been drawing. "Demands she's turned around and heaped onto us," she grumbled. "I'm tired, too. I suppose I understand, a bit."

Normally, the doctor would have reprimanded her tone and warned her to never speak crossly of their queen again. To do so in front of a person with real power would be deadly. However, there were only the workers in the lab tonight, and he was also exhausted from the last few weeks' extra work. His people had been working double time since the woman Bellona had come to the palace. The foul, foreign woman scolded them all constantly, insisting that their designs weren't good enough, that they weren't being made fast enough, and that her having to deal with them was a travesty. Yet his people persisted valiantly, in spite of the insults being hurled at them, and he was very proud of their effort.

Barret always insisted calmly that his people were working as hard and fast as humanly possible, and that he still didn't have the power to bend the laws of nature to his will. Even the queen had vouched for his efforts, and chided her disagreeable guest for being unreasonable. They could never work fast enough to please their masters, but wonders will still being churned out each and every day. It was still progress, and no one could be angry about that.

Of course, Barret and his closest people all knew the true reason for all the fuss. They knew the purpose for the flying ships they were designing, and why they were wanted so desperately. They also knew the purpose behind other things Bellona had ordered them to design and construct – balls of exploding powder, miniature cannons that could be carried over the shoulder, metal tanks that could cross any terrain and crush anything in their way.

It was the makings of an invasion the likes of which had never been attempted in all the world's history. And the queen's employer was anxious to have it done soon. In the next year or two, if it could be so. Why such a thing should be demanded so harshly hadn't been explained; the queen had told him that the reason didn't matter, and the fact that she had told him to do it should be enough. Barret suspected that the queen, herself, might not know that detail.

None of that mattered, really, because it still wasn't humanly possible. He had told Zadina and Bellona both, numerous times, that if the need was truly that urgent, then they should seek out a conjurer or a magician or an alchemist. Once he had suggested, if humans weren't enough, they might have better luck finding someone who was not. That had been awfully cheeky of him to say out loud and had put all his people in considerable danger; but he had been at his wits' end at the time, and tired of having that cyclical argument with people he could barely argue with in the first place. The queen, also tired of it, had allowed it that one time.

Bellona had snapped impatiently that her master had already tried that. She had went on less angrily, almost proudly, that once it had worked well; she had added sulkily that it was a hit or miss effort, and then trudged away. Barret had wondered often since then what that was supposed to mean. He always decided right away that he liked not knowing.

There was so much going on, and there was no knowing when it might end. Barret watched as Beiyu yawned widely and lifted her spectacles to rub her eyes. He placed his hand on her shoulder, hoping to give her comfort and strength. She looked up and smiled her thanks, though her smile was weak.

"I'm so tired," she said quietly. "I wish I could just lie down and sleep, as her majesty is certainly doing."

"I wish we all could, but we must be diligent now," the doctor told her firmly. "You've done well with your first command over the last few months, even in the face of all this nonsense. I am incredibly proud of you, Beiyu. You should be, too."

The girl's smile grew a bit stronger, her heart lifted by his faith in her. She squared her slim shoulders and went back to her drawings, focusing all the harder for the pride she now felt in herself.

Reassured, Barret left her and returned to his own work nearby. It was almost frightening to think of how attached he had gotten to someone he worked with; he hadn't allowed himself to do such a thing for a long time, for fear of losing another dear friend so painfully. But Beiyu was a good apprentice with a brilliant mind, and a promising talent with machinery. He couldn't help liking the girl more and more every day – maybe more than was appropriate for a teacher and his student. From simple words and gestures like the ones they had just shared, he was increasingly sure that she felt the same of him.

None of that mattered, either. Here in the sad world of the royal labs, such a thing could never be.

For a short time, there was silence. Then there was the sound of a door slamming, and a troop of booted feet trampling down from the palace above. Annoyed at what could be demanded of him at this time of night, the doctor set aside his tools and notes and went to see what was going on. Beiyu came skittering after him, ready to stand beside him.

They and all the workers had expected to see Bellona again, accompanied by her usual band of gray-clad men. Instead, the ten men had stormed into the labs alone, shoving people coarsely out of the way, even smashing tables and chairs and scattering things all over the floor.

"Here, now, what is the meaning of this?" Barret demanded in his loudest voice. The leader of the gang marched to stare him down, standing eye to eye with him.

"You're doctor Halek Barret?" the guard snapped.

He raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Yes. Yes, I am."

"And your rank is that of a general, I've been told."

"Well," Barret stammered, surprised. "Yes, I suppose it is. Buy why – ?"

The guard barked a terrible laugh and turned to his men. "Zod Four and Five, seize this one. Haul him off and put him with the rest."

The din that followed was unbearable. The lab workers were shouting in fear. The children were all crying, and small Bindi was tearfully shouting at the guards to let her master go or she would bite them. The guards were laughing at their distress; the two who grabbed him by the arms to pull him toward the stairs were grinning madly with pleasure as he struggled in their grip.

"What is all this about?" he demanded. "What have I done? What have any of us done? Where are you taking me? Explain yourselves at once!"

Somewhere behind him, a voice screamed his name. He jerked his head around and saw its owner at once. It was Beiyu, fighting so hard to reach him that it was taking two other guards to hold her back. Tears of pure rage were streaming down her face. He had never seen the girl so frightened and angry before.

She was only 17 years old, and so much had already been forced on her. Too much, for so young a girl. He hated it, but he had to place one more burden on her shoulders.

"Beiyu, you are in charge here, now," he called over his shoulder as bravely as he could. "Do as I've taught you. Take care of these people for me. I'm counting on you, girl. I'll be back – I _will_ be back, I promise!"

And that was all he had time left to say. He was being dragged up the stairs and away from everything and everyone he had ever known, and he had no idea why. And it was being made clearer and clearer that he wouldn't be given the luxury of an explanation.

He quickly found that he didn't need one. These men called Zod were hauling him toward the only other place beyond the labs he knew of, and his heart was sinking. Already, he was regretting his hastily made promise to return.

They were taking him to the Central Dungeon.

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Bhlai House had been utterly still for some time. Distant music had filled the night air since well before sunset; but it had stopped abruptly not long ago. A tense silent had taken its place, as most of the city sat in silence to wait. It felt like the whole vast city had crouched itself like a hunting creature, waiting to pounce on its unsuspecting prey.

Nearly all the people of Habaharan knew what that silence meant. The rebellion had begun. The rebels had sprung their trap inside the palace, and by now the ballroom they had gathered in was the scene of a battle. Why else would that stately music have stopped, right in the middle of a song? It was as though it were snuffed out like candle flame.

But Alanis had remained on edge, watching the sight of the palace from the third floor window. Her hand remained on the hilt of her sword, and her eyes were locked on the towering structure on the city's hill, waiting to see some sort of activity.

"If there were a battle going on, we would hear it," she said tensely. "We heard the music from the palace, all the way on the far end of the city. So we should hear shouting and screaming and swords clashing just as easily. We should be able to see blazes of light from magicites, perhaps even explosions. But nothing is happening, as far as I can tell."

Forley shrugged and put his arm around her. "Maybe it was just that easy," he suggested. "Maybe Star got in her one good shot, and ended it before it really had to begin. We all get lucky, sometimes."

Alanis shook her head. "Then why aren't we hearing cheers and shouts of triumph? We should be getting _something_ by now. I'd almost take the sounds of our defeat over this silence. Then, at least, I'd know what to do next."

Zizi listlessly watched all of this from one of the couches, wishing he could do something of use for his friends. He was still just a small boy with a terrible stutter, and his strength was nothing compared to any of his companions. Alanis and Leah were tall and strong, and armed with impressive weapons they were highly skilled with. Forley and Zeel were sharp and clever, good at making plans and decisions. Even his wayward sister was fast and slippery, and would have kept everyone's spirits up with her dauntless enthusiasm.

His place in all this was to sit and hide somewhere he would be out of the way, and he couldn't help sulking a bit over it. Zeel had done her best to convince him that his part was very important, because he would be left to take care of Evan while the rest of them went off to fight. That hardly seemed important at all. The baby would be sound asleep and need little looking after.

And once he was safe in his hiding place and his friends had left him behind, what would happen to him next? There was no way to know when he would see any of them again. He clung to a hope that Vivi would come home before any of that happened, but time was running out. What if she had already been captured? What if he was really never going to see her again?

Feeling smaller than ever, the boy hugged his knees to his chest and fought back a wave of tears. He didn't want to worry his friends with the sight of him crying like a frightened baby, but he was so afraid. The thought of never seeing any of them again was tearing at his heart like nothing ever had before.

Noticing his distress, Forley came and sat beside him. "Don't worry, my small man," he said with his usual easy smile. "Things will turn out alright, in the end. After all, seasons can pass us by in the blink of an eye, if we set ourselves to our tasks. All this will be over and done with by morning, you can bet on it."

Zizi tried to smile for him, but he didn't feel like smiling when his heart was so filled with fear and doubt. Seeing that his attempt to cheer him had failed, Forley pulled the boy into his arms and held him close. He began to quietly hum the song he knew Zizi liked best and rock him gently, the way Leah always did when he was upset. At last, Zizi felt his heart lift a little. For a moment, he pretended that nothing was wrong, that there was nothing to fear but a nightmare or a strange shadow on the wall.

Across the room, Alanis stiffened and drew a sharp breath.

"Something's happening up there. I see movement, and lights. Torches, from the look of it. There are many – it will quickly grow to hundreds, this way."

Forley sighed heavily. "So, the next phase has begun. What else do you see, my love?"

Alanis went on peering out the window, then frowned as sound came drifting through the window on the gentle breeze. A terrible sound of wailing and screaming and things being smashing. Zizi shuddered, as the sound took him back to his awful experience in the Central Dungeon. Cries of despair, begging for help and going unanswered, were echoing in his memory. It was hard to tell if he was just remembering, or truly hearing it.

Either way, it was awful enough to shatter his resolve not to cry. A few tears fell down his face as Alanis drew her sword. She turned to them, her eyes very cold.

"We have to move. Right now."

Forley nodded gravely, pulling Zizi to his feet and leading him to the stairs. The dire moment they had all feared had come. Glancing a last time out the window, he could already see plumes of smoke rising in the distance, and the cries of despair were growing louder.

Whatever was coming, it was moving fast, and devouring everything in its wake.

Leah met them halfway up the stairs, her longbow and a quiver full of arrows slung over her shoulder. Her face was set as stone as she snatched Zizi from her brother and hurried him as fast as she could to the first floor.

"Repeat to me what we've told you to do," she ordered him. "What are you to do?"

"Hide," Zizi stammered. "Hide and – and keep quiet and – not make one single – not one sound. Not a peep."

"Good. And what else?"

"Watch over – to keep Evan safe. They can't – no one can see him. I'll protect him with – with my life," he said stoutly. It hadn't seemed like an enormous task when it had been given to him; now that it was happening, it felt like the most important job in the world. He was determined not to let them down.

"That's the spirit," Leah agreed, trying to give him an encouraging smile. "You'll be perfectly safe together. We have a new hiding place for you this time. We didn't even know of it, until tonight. Come, I'll show you."

In the first floor common room, Thora, Simon, and Zeel were hurriedly piling things into a wooden crate. The windows were open, and the sounds of an attack were louder and louder. Thora was stuffing a blanket into the crate as they came clattering down the stairs, and she looked up with that same determined look on her face.

"Good, there's our handsome fellow," she said, brushing her skirt into its proper place as if that was preparation enough for battle. "We're almost ready here. Leah, open the hatch. Quickly, now, we're nearly out of time."

Leah released Zizi's hand and knelt on the first step, prodding at a hidden latch beneath the second. She pushed at the step, and several of them suddenly peeled back on a hinge. Underneath, the staircase was hollow. A roomy space was revealed, more than big enough for a baby and a small boy to hide comfortably. Thora came hurrying over with the crate and handed it to Leah, who tossed it inside.

"There's food and water here for a few days, just in case," she explained as she helped Zizi scramble in after it. "There is also a blanket, and some matches and candles, and first aid supplies. We've hidden all of Star's notebooks at the bottom, too, and some other books for you. Evan's things are all in the small bag, there. Keep him fed and changed the way we've shown you, but mostly just keep him asleep and quiet. You remember how to use the myrmon, don't you?"

Zizi nodded bravely. "One drop. On a cloth. Near his face, not – not right on his face. Right on his face and – and he won't wake up. Never, ever."

"Good, that's good. See? You're ready for just about anything now."

Zeel came next, with her son sleeping heavily in her arms. She had already put him to sleep, and clearly still feeling awful for having to do it. She lowered him carefully into Zizi's arms, painfully letting him slip out of her hands.

"You can do this, Zizi," she told him firmly. "We know that you can. We're counting on you, now."

His lip began to tremble, and he didn't think of fighting it. "I wish you could – why can't you just – why can't you hide here with me?" he pleaded. "There's room! We can all fit! We can all – we'll hide and be – we'll be safe together!"

Leah touched his face rushed away his tears, finally finding a smile for him. "Hey, it's alright," she insisted. "We have a destiny of our own to meet, and we can't hide here as easily as you can. We have to fight for our freedom now, but we need you to stay here and guard our precious things while we can't. You are the keeper of our treasures now. We need you here, Zizi. We need you more than ever."

From the open window, crashing and screaming and the sound of leaping flames was erupting close by. Just down the street, perhaps. Zeel and Leah glanced behind each other at the noise, their faces filled with fear. They looked back to Zizi and Evan one last time.

"We will see you again," Leah said simply, pulling her hand away.

"Leah, no! Don't leave me, too!"

"I will see you again Zizi," she said again, lowering the hatch. "I love you, and one way or another, I _will_ see you again."

The world went dark around him. As he huddled in a corner, shaking like a leaf in the wind, feet came thudding down the steps above him. Alanis and Forley had run down to join the others. He squinted at a thin beam of light shining through a gap in the hatch, and found that he could see through.

It was only a sliver of sight, but he could see the backs of all his friends, standing in a line before the front door. He could tell that each of them had a weapon in hand. He saw the moonstone magicite glowing in Forley's hand, and the ruby flaring passionately in Alanis'.

"We may not be able to hold off so many," Leah commented.

"But we have to try," Forley answered. "For all we stand to loose, we must try."

"If we stand here and let them come one by one through the door, we might stand a chance," Alanis pointed out. "I've heard of it working before. Zeel, you and Rowan did it once."

"Yes, I remember, dear. A band of older children invaded our house long ago, trying to rob and frighten us. We learned of that tactic from your father, never expecting it to be of use in our quiet village. It was a lesson we never forgot, though I never expected to use it here, either."

What came next was an explosion of noise that haunted Zizi to the end of his life. The front door crashed open and a mass of gray burst into the house, shouting orders and curses. There was the mighty sound of metal on metal as swords clashed against each other. His friends were fighting and shouting back as they fought valiantly.

He heard metal slicing coarse and deeply into flesh, and through that tiny gap he watched in horror as someone he knew fell to the floor. He heard Thora's voice, always so firm and true, wailing in agonized rage. He heard Leah cry out in pain, and the sound of glass shattering. Alanis' voice shouted in triumph as her own blade raked into one of her attackers – only for her to shout again in shock as instead of falling to the floor, her attacker dissolved in a puff of gray smoke, its clothes and sword collapsing in an empty heap.

The urge to scream and cry with them was overwhelming; but Zizi bravely kept silent, though he wasn't sure how he managed it. In one way, it was almost easy. Witnessing this awful scene from his hiding place had robbed him of words.

One by one, he heard and faintly saw his friends grabbed by rough hands. Try as they might, they were no match for the unnatural strength of the monstrous creatures. In little time, only three of them remained, towering menacingly over the stairs and laughing horribly.

"I thought we were promised a fight," one of them sneered. "Worthless ticks. They really aren't good for anything, are they?"

"Damn," one of them spat, kicking at the pile of his fallen comrade's clothes. "We lost Nine, though."

"The loss of one is no concern," said another. "We'll lose plenty tonight. Ticks are stronger and more stubborn than they look. They always fight back, and we always lose a few. No matter. It's easily fixed."

"Well, what now? We got them all. I say we burn the place!"

"Yeah! Burn it to the ground!"

"Save your energy. We won't waste time and fire burning holes like this. We've wasted enough as it is. This lot will be craftier than most, if they're wanted alive. That one woman has an appointment with the sniveling queen, and the rest have a one way ticket to the Central Dungeon. You don't expect them to go quietly, do you?"

The others cursed loudly in disappointment, and the third smacked them both.

"Fly Six, Fly Eight, quit your whining! Get up there and search the third floor! Remember, there are rooms hidden behind those walls. Make sure there aren't anymore ticks hiding in them."

Grumbling, the two thumped up the stairs, unaware that Zizi was right under their feet and wondering furiously how they knew about those hidden rooms. The third remained on the first floor, and could be heard throwing aside furniture, smashing Thora's nice things, and laughing as he made a spiteful mess. Long, awful minutes passed before the other two returned.

"Fly One, we've searched both the other floors, and there's nothing there. All the rooms are empty."

"Couldn't you find _anything_ of substance?" Fly One demanded. "Nothing shiny or valuable to show for all this trouble?"

"Clearly not – you smashed it all!"

"What about those shiny things on the floor? Those are the stones they attacked us with! And the sword that destroyed Nine! We can take those!"

"You fool, Eight, don't touch those! That's not the master's magic – do you _want_ to end up like Nine? A single touch will leave you in ashes! No, we can't pick them up. There's no way we can take them with us, now."

"Fine, fine. What about the sword, then?"

"That scrap of tin? Leave it. Those are a silver a dozen. Another one won't impress anybody, least of all Bellona. We're done here. Move out!"

One of them could be heard muttering angrily to himself, "Stupid ticks. Why would they throw the stones on the floor? If only they had carried them away with them, we might have had some loot to show off."

"Stop complaining, Six. Rejoin the others. There's one last thing to take care of, here."

Zizi peeked through the gap and watched as the leader drew a heavy metal brand from over his shoulder. The thing glowed with light as it was stamped into the front door, and then faded as the leader put it back in place and stalked away.

From his hiding place, all Zizi could see was the sagging front door, and the dark, smoky street beyond, and the darkened mark of an outstretched hand burned into the door. All that was left behind was an emptiness, and a terrible stillness, and the growing wailing of his city as the scene he had just witnessed was repeated over and over again.

The rebellion was over, in the same instant as it had started. And he was utterly alone.


	15. Chapter 14: The Traitor

I've left you an extremely short chapter, to absorb everything. All if it sucks, as I promised.

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 _Chapter 14: The Traitor_

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Star and Zan, in their distinctive costumes, had been picked out of the crowd right away. Two of the guards from the group called Lun pod had dragged them away, and they had been unable to do anything but follow in silence. All of Central Control was now being pushed back through the main entrance like a herd of dumb beasts, but the ten the queen had specified were quickly being spotted and pushed roughly against a wall to wait.

Star was trying to wriggle free of the dark magic that held her body prisoner; all her friends were doing the same, but it was no use. There was nothing they could do as one by one, their captors tore of their masks, cast them on the floor, and smashed them all to pieces. Star had feared that their masks wouldn't survive the evening; but she hadn't expected it to happen so soon.

And a terrible thought had entered her mind, as the last of squad C-57 was pushed into place beside them. It was Zione, shorter than most and often overlooked because of it; but her mask was the beaky face of a raven, and impossible to miss. There were ten of them now, but Star didn't belong to Central Control. She was only the spare the queen had spoken of. One was still missing.

Zaneth. The queen hadn't mentioned a bat when she had listed them all to Lun pod. Zak hadn't been able to find him, though he had searched the crowd and found all the rest of them. Where was he? How had he managed to escape?

It took a dreadful time for the enormous ballroom to empty, and squad C-57 was forced to stand and watch, knowing their comrades were being shoved into the cells of the Central Dungeon. Star and Zan had been in those winding corridors, and knew that horrors went on in their shadows. The fate awaiting Central Control was sure to be ten times worse than anything a regular prisoner endured. Their rebellion against their master had been crushed in the blink of an eye. She would be sure to make a painful example of them all, as a warning to future generations.

The queen, herself, was not watching her ballroom slowly being empty. She was glaring with cold contempt over the men and women she knew had started the rebellion in the first place. She was studying their unveiled faces, perhaps marveling at how such a plain-looking bunch had done it all in secret. She must have looked at young Zan, short Zione, and bespectacled Zak with particular surprise and disgust, angry that people who should have been unremarkable and stupid had proven to be so much more.

Far too many times, Zadina had stared hard and long at Star. Sometimes, her hateful gaze had lingered on her for minutes before breaking away. Star had dared each time to meet that gaze and look the queen right in the eye. She already knew the reason – like so many others, Zadina had recognized her face, remembered where she had seen it before, and made the connection.

Layers of plaster and paint and even a mask couldn't hide who she really was. She was still the spitting image of her father, the one person in the world the queen hated most. More frightening, it seemed that Zadina had already known this. She had ordered Star to be set aside for something especially awful. How had she known…?

 _Where all is hidden, traitors lurk…_

The words of her prophecy shot through her mind. They hadn't been speaking of the rebels, poised to betray their masters. It had spoken of a traitor in their own midst. Only now, too late, did she see this. And now that she did, she had a terrible suspicion of who it might be.

As the last of Central Control was finally pushed out of the ballroom, the pale woman beside the throne crossed her arms and rolled her eyes as she spoke for the first time. In the empty, cavernous chamber, her bitter voice echoed like distant thunder.

"If you were to do something about these wretches, oh great one, now would be an opportune moment to do it."

Zadina hummed boredly. "No, not quite yet," she drawled back. "I have one or two more due to join the party. They should be arriving any moment, now, and I would hate for them to miss this."

The pale woman hissed in disgust. "This had better be of monumental importance. Your carelessness in years past has cost you dearly, and every second you delay in destroying these people is just more of that same foolishness."

"Don't worry your pretty head over that, oh great one," Zadina answered, sounding careless, indeed. "This charming little spell is holding them well. It will hold them a while longer."

Now the pale woman's thin mouth cracked into a hideous grin. "So said Theagan. Look where she is."

Zadina turned her furious gaze up at her. "Would you _please_ stop comparing me to that spoiled brat! We are nothing alike!"

"So you say, oh great one. We shall see, soon enough."

"Whatever," Zadina scoffed. "I do believe I hear one of my missing guests approaching, just now. Send for my good general and his witchy friend. I believe he should like to see this woman again, one last time. Lun pod, take hold of these people, and hold them good and tight. I want to watch them squirm."

The queen waved her arm faintly; and with a rush of release, Star felt the holding spell fall away from her. It felt as though she could breathe again. Her first instinct was to jump away from the hands that gripped her, to kick and scream and even bite, if she could. But those hands clamped around her arms like bands of iron, and amused, evil laughter filled her ears as she struggled in vain.

Her friends were doing the same all around her, and their captors were just as amused as hers. All of them except Zamiel, who stood straight and tall with his head held high.

"All of you, stop that," he commanded them. "Rising to her bait won't do us any good. Hold fast, and stand with courage! She wants to see us squirm – I won't give her the pleasure! What say you?"

The rest of the squad, trusting and believing in their commander, quieted down and stood in grudging silence. None of them preferred this obedient stillness to action and a fight; but surely they had all seen that struggling against the gray guards was a fool's errand, and a waste of precious energy.

Seeing how easily the man had swayed his people, Zadina glared at him. "You are quite the persuasive captain, aren't you?" she sneered. "Let us fix that."

With another terrible word and a wave of her hand, Zamiel's eyes went wide with shock. He opened his mouth to shout back in defiance, but no sound came out. His men could see all too well that his voice – one of his most powerful and precious possessions – had been snatched away from him. He would be forced to watch all that came next in utter silence, but still be able to struggle for his queen's amusement.

It was awful to think that such a thing could _really_ happen, but Star was more and more willing to believe it. Silence was another power of the Earth Sigil, though she had never been granted access to it. She had seen her father use it, though, on the rare occasion he lost patience with unjust or angry voices in their village. But it was a power that belonged to Earth, not Fire. How on earth was the Titan of Fire using it so easily? Star could almost hear her mother crying out in alarm over it.

Her frightened friends all turned their heads to the main entrance, toward the sounds of an approaching struggle; following their gaze, Star's heart sank as she realized she _could_ hear her mother's voice, crying out not in alarm, but indignant rage. Zadina smirked at the noise and rose from her throne, brushing her hair and enormous skirts back into place.

"Tell me I look divine, Bellona," she purred to the thin woman, descending from the dias for the first time. "I want to look my absolute best for this woman."

"I could say that," Bellona spat, "but all you marked, ugly _humans_ honestly look the same to me."

Zadina ignored this, and watched with visible pride as another pair of gray guards barged through the double doors, dragging a furious, battle damaged Zeel between them. For all that had already happened, Star was horrified to see her own mother this way. Her plain tunic and leggings were ripped in places and spattered with blood, and a long cut on her leg was still bleeding badly. One of her eyes was blackened and swollen. Whatever Zamiel thought of struggling, Zeel was fighting her captors with all her might. She must have done so all the long way from Bhlai House and given this pair a run for their money. They both looked tired from grappling with her, as they gladly threw her to the floor at Zadina's feet.

A true perfect, super soldier if there ever was one, even if she had never been trained as one. Zadina bent over her and smiled her coy smile.

"So, we meet again, Zeel Moakel. I had hoped we might, someday. And just look at you now. So full of surprises, as always."

Zeel glared back, clearly nowhere near the end of her strength. "More than you had bargained for, I'll wager."

Displeased that her latest victim could dare be so sassy, Zadina gestured to the far wall. "I have captured all your young friends, _and_ your pretty daughter. What do you have to say to that?" she demanded, grinning triumphantly.

Zeel peered around the queen's skirts at the prisoners. Her face was dismayed at the sight of them, and for a moment she bitterly lowered her head. When she lifted it again, all her anger had returned.

"I figured that out when your men raided our house," she snapped. "It was obvious. I am not so foolish as you are, your majesty."

Zadina sniffed at the insult and shook her head. "Not so foolish, when you think of it, dear. A good idea is never the work of just one person, you know. Now, is _this_ so obvious for you?"

As she finished speaking, the hidden door behind the throne could be heard opening and closing. It was hard to imagine how this scene could possibly become worse, but it did in an instant. Zared Azan appeared, more pompous than ever in his finest clothes. Swaggering along on his arm, hardly seeming a slave at all, was Tiba Barsa.

The two glanced over the squad without surprise. Tiba even narrowed her eyes and giggled at them, almost knowingly. Then they had noticed the beaten woman on the floor, so changed from how they had always known her, and they stopped to stare at her in disbelief.

"Ferrienne?" Azan burst out, frowning in shock and puzzlement.

"Zeel!" she nearly screamed back. "My name is Zeel, you wicked old fool! What's the matter? Do we not look as radiant as the sun today?"

The general jumped back, stunned by the hatred being volleyed at him. The look on his face was a small victory, in itself. How he must have looked back on that time a year and more ago, when this woman had fooled him with soft looks and quiet words, and he had thought to even take her into his house as his wife. The very person he had been tasked with seeking out had been right under his nose the whole time.

And surely he knew that being duped so well for so long didn't put him in a good place with his queen. He must have been terrified. For the moment, Zadina was cackling at their reunion, pleased with the shock they had caused each other.

"Now, don't look so sullen, my faithful general," she laughed. "It is because of you, in the end, that we finally found her after all this time. I should be thanking you – and your head of house, and her little friend. It isn't every day that we hand out so much power to a common slave; it has never happened before, in fact. But you were right about this one. She serves you well, as does your traitorous servant, don't you agree?"

Azan regained his composure and forced himself to nod politely. "It is as I promised, the girl is loyal to a fault. Your majesty, if I might be so bold, let her tell the whole story. I believe it will please you to see what happens next."

Zadina hummed as she thought it over. "It is highly irregular… But I suppose this is an interesting night already. Very well, I will allow it. Go on, then, girl, tell them of all your hard work recently. They will simply love it, I'm sure."

Overly pleased with herself, Tiba flounced down the dias on her own, happy to do her bidding. She strutted into Zamiel's face with a smug, knowing grin.

"What's the matter, my love?" she teased, happy to see that he couldn't reply. "Surprised to see? I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I tried so hard to break you with these wondrous new powers of mine – powers _you_ could have shared, if you had just done as you were told. Power to bend and influence the mind is not so easily come by, you know. Rare, and painful. But our generous master trusts and believes in me, and knew that I would use it to his glory. He made commands. He saw it done. You have no clue what I can do now."

It felt to Star that she was standing outside herself, hearing and watching this happening to someone else. From there, it made awful but plain sense. Mind powers were in the realm of Fire's abilities. It wasn't impossible. After all, such powers and their consequences had much to do with how the Keeper of the Crystal was so closely connected to her family. Still, the powers Tiba claimed to have didn't belong to just anyone – they belonged with a Titan who could control them, who couldn't hand them out like candy to whoever she chose.

The others didn't know any of this, and went on gaping at her in growing horror as she prattled on to Zamiel, as though the rest of them weren't there.

"When the lord general set me to spy on you, I thought it would be easy. We both did. Oh, we all knew you were up to something, and I was determined to find out what it was. But your mind is a steel trap, isn't it? You were impossible to break, and wasted weeks of hard work. But no matter. I found… Someone else. Someone easier. Someone weaker."

She leaned dangerously close to him and said, "Where is Zaneth? Where is your poor, stupid, silly brother who thought I could ever return his love?"

Tiba paused, watching as Zamiel's face filled with understanding and fright. Once again, her lovely face lost all its beauty as it twisted into a hideous grin.

"Oh, I couldn't stand him and all his disgusting advances; but in the end, it was why getting him alone was so easy. Once I had him under _my_ control, he spilled all your secrets like an upturned garbage pail. He answered every question, every suspicion, gave me all the information I asked for. When I was through with him, I left him a present for his helpfulness. A false memory of our time together – memories of kisses and confessions and sweet words to keep him company."

"You lie!" Zan shouted, where his brother could not. "Zaneth would never betray us! You're lying!"

Tiba sneered as she sidled into his face. "You are in no place be questioning my authority. Your brother betrayed you. He handed me the keys to the kingdom, and destroyed all that you've worked so hard for. And my personal favorite part of it all is, he never even knew it was happening."

"Where is he?" Zan demanded. "Tell me where he is!"

"Oh, are you sure you want to know?" Tiba asked with pretended thoughtfulness. "I had him just a little while ago, in fact. He was very helpful, too – he mentioned your healer friend, and the hidden rooms in her house, and all who have been skulking around inside them. They are all in the dungeon by now, say for that wayward woman on the floor, there. It couldn't have been done without our Zaneth. Of course, it wasn't as though we could just let him go free. I released him from the spell, to think about his weakness while he sat with you in a cell, awaiting death with the rest of his kind. But as I summoned the guard to take him, he saw what he had done. He panicked and… Well…"

She hesitated again. In that moment, Star could have sworn she saw a flicker of fear in the woman's eyes.

"I'm afraid he ran for the window before they could grab him. He fell four stories, and made quite a mess. I really don't think you would like to see him just now."

An unbearable wave of fear and hurt came over Star. Her knees had turned to jelly, and her head was swimming. She was speechless, but her friends were howling with grief all around her. All except for silent Zamiel, his head bowed in defeat. Capture, he had planned for. Utter failure, he had been prepared to face. He was so strong and confident, and all who followed him were sure there was nothing that could break him. But the betrayal and loss of his beloved brother had shattered him in an instant.

Tiba stood triumphantly before them, puffing out her chest like a bird. Zadina seemed pleased with her awful story. On the dias, the Bellona was smiling for the first time, and Azan was looking surprised.

"I had no knowledge of this last bit," he snapped at his servant. "I hope you had planned on telling me sometime that the boy was lost."

Bellona laughed at his impatience. "It was inevitable. It is always the middle brother. The eldest always revels in his own glory, and the youngest is always spoiled as a baby can be; but the middle brother always goes astray in their shadows. It is a fact you can bet on. Just ask the master – if you dare."

"Never mind all that," Zadina commanded. "General, send your servant back to your house. She has served her purpose and has no use left here. We, on the other hand, have quite a lot of work left. Never forget, there is still a monster here to be dealt with."

With a simple gesture, Azan summoned Tiba back the way she had come, leaving the rest to marvel at all the awfulness before them. As if the worst really could have been behind them. What could the queen have meant about a monster?

In her heart, Star knew the answer. It didn't stop her from shuddering in fright as the Dragon Lord cast her finger straight at her.

"Give me that one. Bring it here at once!"

The guard holding Star began shoving her forward, still gripping her arms as she defied Zamiel's order not to struggle. In the back of her mind, she had feared this moment from the beginning; but even more than that, she was increasingly terrified of Zadina. The cruel, wretched woman summoning her was much more than just a Titan. This was being made perfectly clear – perhaps for the sole purpose of frightening those of them who understood the nature of deep magic. Zadina defied that nature at every turn, and was making no effort to be subtle about it.

More than ever, something was terribly, desperately wrong. And though the queen was going out of her way to make it known, she certainly had no intention of explaining it all.

The guard roughly pushed Star to her face before the queen, and she hit the floor with a cry of surprise and pain. Somewhere behind her, sounding very far away, she heard her friends shouting her name. Her mother was near, hidden from her sight behind the queen's gown. Zadina was staring at her in disgust and fury, as though she were something foul that had been spilled on the patterned marble floor.

"So _this_ is the half-bred abomination I've heard so much about," she hissed. "Look me in thee eye! Let me see your face before I kill you!"

Shuddering, Star gathered all her courage and looked up into the queen's wrathful eyes. She could feel the layers of her cosmetics running and smudging with her own tears. Her heart was pounding so loud, she was sure her friends could hear it. She wished she look stare back at the queen with defiance, and the courage both her parent's people valued; but she felt small and weak again, cast adrift in a sea of danger, alone and without hope of rescue. As she did as she was told, her lip was trembling and fresh tears were rolling down her face.

Seeing how pathetic and frightened she was, Zadina laughed and planted her fists on her hips.

"My, my, what a savior the cosmos has sent us," she said. "Is this waste of human flesh truly the one of prophecy? The one we have been watching for, all these thousands of years? Bellona, just look at it! This can't be the right one!"

"Looks are usually deceiving, oh great one," Bellona answered sharply. "The tree has flourished. The branch has shot forth. The bud of Earth and Fire is here, sniveling at your feet like the child it is. Now do your part and crush it! Crush it like a grape, before it blossoms! It is your only part in the matter!"

There was a ferocious shriek and a whirl of movement. Before Star could quite understand that her mother had shoved the queen aside in a haze of panic, Zeel had jumped in front of her, shielding her child with her own body.

"Stay back," she growled. "I will kill you before you touch her."

Zadina just smirked at her effort. "Flys, separate them, if you will."

Star clung to her mother as another jolt of fear pierced her heart, but her hands felt weak and useless as a fish. Zeel held her fast, with all a mother's love and might; but it wasn't enough, as her two captors took them and wrenched them apart. Zadina looked over them thoughtfully, while on the dias, Bellona threw her hands in the air.

"What are you doing?" she shouted. "Kill that wailing woman, too, if you must! Just end this nonsense, once and for all!"

"Patience, of great one, patience," Zadina answered calmly. "Fate has presented me with a clever challenge. Now, usually, I would just have one of our shady friends here run the little blossom through and be done with it, but that would be too easy. Here, I have a mother's wrath to contend with, so the question is: how to do away with this ragged creature, in a way that would bring its mother the most pain?"

Star was nearly beyond hearing. Her mind was like that of an injured, hunted animal, trying to understand what it had done to deserve so much punishment. There was a prophecy? A tree, a branch, and a bud? _She_ was the bud? She had been watched and waited for? What on earth for? What was she meant to do that had the Dragon Lord and other enemies so frightened of her?

Did her father know it? He must have. Why did he never tell her? She reasoned, in her bruised mind, for the same reason his mother hadn't told him of his own fated destiny. To keep her from watching for it on the horizon, dreading its coming, never knowing when it might find her. To spare her the anxiety and agony of waiting, to let her live a happy and carefree childhood, only to be taken unaware and swept away later.

Because he knew her, and loved her, and had tried all her life to protect her from what he had known was coming. And even when it had arrived, he had tried to send her home to hide from it. She had ignored him that day, now years ago, and had run off to follow it anyway.

And now it had led her here, to writhe helplessly in the Dragon Lord's grasp. To die a death that would torture her mother. To fail both of her peoples in the same fell swoop.

"Death by fire is traditional for half-breeds," Zadina considered, tapping her chin in thought. "I understand that hangings are quite the style among the Rinfolk for their most shameful criminals. Is this not true? Oh! We could bury the monster alive, and let the earth take her! How delightful would that be? Hm… None of it sounds quite right for this occasion, though. I don't see my wayward sister cringing nearly enough. What to do, what to do…?"

But it sounded in her voice that she had already made her decision. Towering over Zeel, she gave her an especially awful smile and nodded, pleased with her choice.

"I think we all know very well what _you_ fear most."

For the first time, Zeel's face was filled with fear. The fear of a small child. The oldest fear she knew, paralyzing her from instinct as well as experience. "No… No!"

"Yes! That's the thing, isn't it? We will have this abomination whisked away into the wastes. And while you rot beneath my feet, you can content yourself with the knowledge that your only child has been devoured alive and screaming by the ishken! A fitting punishment – it should have been yours."

To Star, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl. There was echoing noise all around her. Voices she knew and loved screaming her name. The gray guards laughing at her fear. The pounding of her own heart in her ears. Bellona's grating voice cutting through all the rest, ordering Zadina to get on with it. Zadina's droning chant that filled her mind with dread.

Footsteps running to her, and the voice she loved most commanding the queen to get away from her. Gasps of surprise and triumph. Bellona shouting to look out.

Out of the blue, black skirts lined with fur jumped in front of her, arms held wide to block the queen's spell. Star's racing heart leapt with irrational joy. It was her Zan, who had broken free and run to protect her, never caring a button for his own safety.

But Zadina was now in a trance, and had heard none of the warnings, and hadn't seen him leap between them. She opened her eyes, spread her fingers wide, and cast her spell at her target. Too late, she saw someone else in her way. Her red eyes were wide with shock and rage.

And before any of them could blink, Zan was gone. There was no flash of light, no puff of smoke, not even a sound to go with it. He simply vanished before all their staring eyes. By way of dark, forbidden magic, he had been sent away.

And it was horrifically clear where he had been sent, and what was awaiting him there.


	16. Chapter 15: Chaos

_Chapter 15: Chaos_

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As the last of her victims were dragged from her ballroom, kicking and screaming and crying with sorrow, Zadina stood perfectly still and watched without interest. Her mind was taken up with her misplaced spell, and the boy it had ensnared. It was unlike a mere mortal to wrestle free from the hideous guards her own master had sent. The fact that one of her former warriors had been able to do it, just to protect a girl her fancied, was baffling. That he would dare fancy a half-bred monster in the first place was unfathomable.

The waste of so much power on the wrong person was frightening. For many reasons.

She refused to let this show on her face, while important guests were present. Seeing that there was now an extra member of the Lun pod, she had ordered him (she supposed?) to take hold of the Moakel woman and put her with the rest of the rebellious squadron. When the abomination had been hauled off with them, it had been enough to make Bellona's eye twitch with irritation.

"So have the wretch run through, as you said before," the woman demanded. "Foolish delays like this are the whole reason I was sent to oversee you in the first place!"

"I will deal with it later," Zadina replied smugly. "The boy's sudden loss at its defense has clearly upset it. We'll let it chew on that, while I tend to the rest of my failed army. Just think of it, oh great one – while it languishes in prison with the others, the whole of Central Control will be forced into cages and slaughtered all around it. The sounds of death and despair will be inescapable, and they will all have to bear the knowledge that it was their fault. It will beg for release, by the time I come for it. And I, being a gracious and merciful ruler, will abide by that request."

"That could take days!" Bellona shouted. "A force of thousands can't be done away with in a single night. You leave the child of prophecy to rot in a prison cell, but rebels never sit quietly and despair. They think. They plot. They escape and ruin everything! Have you learned nothing from Deltora's little king?"

Zadina silenced her with a wave of her hand. "You forget, this is not the soft, sweet land of Deltora. You are in the realm of the Zebak, and we rule with a first of pure iron."

Defeated, Bellona scoffed and stormed away. "A fist of pure tin, is what you mean," she grumbled. "Soft, indeed, good only for being a disappointment. You have three days to get to the girl. If you do not see it through, I will! Next time, act first. Babble about your borrowed powers when the deed is done!"

As soon as she was gone, general Azan ventured down to join the queen he still served with all his loyalty.

"A masterful performance," he praised. "Truly stirring."

After Bellona's verbal beating, Zadina couldn't help giggling at the man's fawning. "Oh, my faithful general, you are entirely too kind. I commend you for your assistance in all this. It would not have been possible without you."

The general nodded in humble thanks. "Permission to venture a question, your omnipotent grace?"

"General Azan, you flatter me. Permission granted."

"Well, if I might be so bold, what will happen with the rebels now?"

"A simple matter, really – we exterminate them. Each and every member of Central Control has been accounted for: every man, woman, and child in my legions. Those who were not in this room tonight are also accounted for, whether sick or merely hiding from me. There are gray guards aplenty to replace them for now; more are promised to pour in over the next few weeks. The captives will all be held down below, and killed in large numbers at a time. It will be like firing arrows at fish in a barrel."

"A brilliant plan, your majesty."

"I know, isn't it? My pods have already been sent into the city to slaughter the stragglers. Their families, too, I'm afraid; the master's orders are very clear that Central Control is to be rooted out as thoroughly as possible. It's a terrible waste of useful hands, I'm afraid, but at least the master has allowed the smallest of children to be spared. Those young minds can still be broken and shaped to our liking."

"Oh, to be sure, your opulence. A lesson they will take to their young hearts, and pass on to future generations. Your people will never dare rise against their masters again."

"Yes, I know. If you look outside, you will see and hear that it is already going very well."

Azan moved to do as she had suggested, but the two guards who had brought Zeel stepped in front of him and barred his way. He frowned at them, and tried to brush them aside.

"Get out of my way," he barked at them, fixing his spectacles. "I am with her ladyship."

The guards chuckled cruelly, and without being asked to, the seized his arms. For the first time in many years, he was truly frightened.

"Unhand me at once!" he ordered. "Your majesty, tell these ruffians to release me!"

Zadina shook her head and laughed at his dismay.

"Oh, but my dear general, you forget your station," she purred. "You have been a great help these last few weeks, it is true. However, you _did_ let the Moakel woman, and several Rinfolk, _and_ the child of prophecy slip under your beaky little nose for the last two years. Not to mention the rebel leader and all his band have been under your care all along, and you failed to see it until just recently. Anyway, your fellow generals are all locked up below, by now, and I really would hate for you to feel left out."

General Azan stared at her, his mouth gaping like a fish, his whole face a mask of pure terror. "But… But…"

Zadina pressed her finger to his lips, ending his pathetic stammering.

"Orders are that Central Control must be rooted out as thoroughly as possible," she repeated. "And you _are_ of Central Control, are you not? Well? _Are you_?"

With a wave of her hand, the two Fly guards hauled the man away after all the others. Zadina watched this vaguely, only half aware of his terrified insisting that there must be a mistake. He was begging her to reconsider, to show her famous mercy to her loyal servant. But she did not hear him. His hollering voice faded away soon enough, leaving her with her thoughts.

A good thing, too. There was still much to be done.

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In the garage of their Southside home, Dollosus and Unos were wide awake. Terrible sounds and smells were in the air. The humans they loved had not returned from the night's adventures, though the midnight hour was drawing near. Rebel, their pup, was playing with a wooden toy between her father's feet, trusting in his strength, not caring if something was wrong; but her parents cared very much, and were growing uneasy as the bad sounds and smells grew stronger and nearer.

There was the sound of heavily booted feet storming toward the garage door. Dollosus was used to this sound; to him, it was the way his masters usually sounded. But there was something different about it this time. There were many more than just the three men he loved and trusted, and it sounded menacing. A stench came with it, of sour sulfur and brimstone, and the fires of a deep, dark place.

Sensing danger, Dollosus rose and nudged the playing pup toward his mate. He faced the door and growled a warning to whatever was outside, raising all his spines and flicking his barbed, three-pronged tail.

" _It will not come inside, my Iron Hide,"_ Unos insisted. _"It will not dare, while you guard us."_

" _We do not know that, my Only One,"_ he answered. _"It is cunning and strong. It will come, but it will not harm you or our young, while I stand."_

As he has suspected, the garage door was quickly kicked in, and a troop of strange, ugly creatures began filling the space. They were shouting and pointing at the three grach, motioning to ropes and lashes in their hands, saying words Dollosus had come to know. "Rope." "Bind." "Take." "Kill."

But they clearly hadn't counted on the stubbornness of the beasts they were facing. Seeing now that the danger was real, Unos had also risen to join her mate in growling and making herself as big as possible. Only one of the creatures had time to unfurl its rope and try to throw it around her head. With a few slashes of their tales and claws, the whole bunch was dispatched with little trouble.

The pair watched in fascination as the creatures dissolved into the air, leaving empty piles of clothes and weapons behind. Dollosus and Unos and both seen human beings be slain, and had never known them to die like this. They nudged at the garments with their noses, perplexed at what had just happened. Their curious daughter slithered over to grab and empty boot in her mouth and shake it violently, as though she had triumphed over them all, herself.

The garage door was wide open, letting all sorts of things drift inside. Dollosus gazed for a long moment at the open door, and cautiously stuck his head out. He had never wandered out of the house on his own before, without Lion Man or Rebel Leader to guide him. It felt disobedient to him; but at the same time, the idea of going where he pleased without permission was exciting. He couldn't help at least looking outside.

Before she could skitter out and away, Unos took Rebel in her mouth and came to look out, as well. The dark night sky was thick with smoke, and alight with distant flames. In a great cloud above them, a herd of loosed grach like themselves was wheeling in a screeching mass. The two flicked their forked tongues and hissed at the foul tastes they met.

" _There is fire and death and evil on the air tonight,_ " Dollosus said grimly. " _Do your hear the voices of our kind, Only One? They speak of betrayal and war."_

Unos bowed her head and began to sway anxiously. _"Lion Man and Small Star will not return, I think…"_

That was a terrible thought, but Dollosus sensed that she was right. They leaned heavily against each other for comfort, and he nuzzled his pup's face. The baby had become very still, confused by all that had just happened and nervous over her parents' sadness.

" _Oh, Iron Hide, what will happen to us now?"_ Unos wondered.

Yes. He was their mate and father. They were a small herd of their own, and he was the leader. He had to make a choice for them.

" _I know what will happen,"_ he told them sternly. _"I will join our own kind in the sky, and fight alongside them if I must. I will learn of Lion Man and Small Star, if I can. I will defend our land, as the Hallowed Fathers would have wanted. You will take Fighter Spirit somewhere safe. Somewhere you will both be safe. You will wait there until it is well to return."_

Unos snorted and waved her head. _"You may very well die that way, Iron Hide! I will stay here and fly beside you, at last. I, too, will defend our land. We will defend it together. If I leave you, we will not be able to defend each other, as mates should."_

" _Perhaps not, my Only One, but you and our young will remain alive. That is all that matters. It is the only way I can defend you, now."_

She plainly did not like it; but she lifted the pup into a more comfortable position in her jaws and flexed her wings in preparation.

" _I know a place where we will remain alive,"_ she told him. _"It is far away in the west, in the lands of the Lord of Earth, where my former masters are. I will speak to Red One, when I return. He will understand. He will bring help. I am sure of this."_

" _See that Fighter Spirit is safe, first. Then return, with all the help you can find in the Hallowed Father's shadow."_

There was little left to be said, and no time for more, anyway. The two touched noses in farewell. Dollosus flicked his tongue against Rebel's small face, praying in his animal heart that it wouldn't be the last time he heard his own young trilling in delight.

" _Safe flight, my Only One."_

" _Safe flight, my Iron Hide. As the wandering folk say – my sight will find yours, in whatever end."_

The two spread their wings, and parted ways with heavy, mourning hearts.

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Far away in the west, the Titans of Earth, Air, and Water had stayed up late by accident. Their minds had been joined for hours in discussion and pleasant conversation. They had spoken together of how prosperous their land had continued to grow, and of children recently born, and Maris' latest plans for trade. It was mid-spring now, and Rin's sowing season had gone well as always. The Travelers were planning to visit them in the next few weeks – their first visit since the tragedy had struck.

Rowan had been sitting against the wall in his study, deep in mediation, the whole time. The candle on his desk was burning lower and lower, but his mind was somewhere else. In his mind, Doss' voice was like ocean waves on the shore, and Mithren's like a gentle breeze through the leaves of a tree. He, himself, was like the shore and the leaves, sturdy and silent, while his brothers carried on a friendly argument.

" _I say again, it makes no sense to me that this whole land should be called Maris,"_ Mirthen was insisting. _"Your people can say all they want, but mine were here long before yours."_

" _Yes, so you have pointed out numerous times,"_ Doss agreed, sounding faintly annoyed. _"However, my people will refuse to hear of this, no matter how true it is. In any case, who were the ones the first traders met when they sailed to this land? The Maris, of course. If you wandering folk had been near by at the time, maybe you could have corrected them. But where were you?"_

" _Does it matter? We were about our land, tending to all its needs, as we ought to be. Three ancient and very different races share this part of our world equally. I don't see how yours should get all the credit for it."_

Though deep in meditation, Rowan smiled at his brother's lighthearted bickering. _"Are we really back to gnawing at this old bone again?"_ he teased. _"The two of you come back to this at least twice a year. Its no one's fault, after all; its just what those first traders knew of our land. It isn't as though they ventured far into it; their only interest was what was there on the coast."_

Doss huffed a laugh, like salt spray in their faces. _"If the two of you were to journey to the coast in the summertime when their ships arrive, they may come to think differently. It could do all our peoples a great service, too. There would be more to trade amongst ourselves, and we would be together more often. We would all be stronger, in a number of ways."_

Mithren could be felt shaking his head doubtfully, like a small whirlwind. _"The Travelers have always ventured north in the summer months, to see to the mountains while there is no snow."_

" _And the Rinfolk have little to trade until harvest time,"_ Rowan added. _"Still, we have had a surplus of many things for the last several years, and a growing abundance of wealth. I don't know how much we could sell in the summertime, but that doesn't mean we can't buy."_

" _It doesn't do, to horde wealth and not use it,"_ Mithren agreed. _"And, you know, the Corona tribe is only one of many that roam the plains. Surely, it won't hurt if just one goes east, for a change."_

Across the land and all the space that separated them, the three men silently nodded in agreement.

" _Then it is decided,"_ Doss proclaimed. _"We will break our old traditions and make new ones, as we always have. Our three peoples will meet in Maris in the next few months, in peace and friendship, to do good and honest trade with one another. I do not believe such a thing has happened before in all our history, apart from gathering for war. What a glorious change this will be."_

It was a good, hopeful feeling. It was always exciting to them to try new things, especially when it made the lives of their people better. Their willingness to break traditions and rules in moments of real need had set them apart, and made then excellent leaders – even if some of their people went reluctantly. Rowan wondered what some of his own would have to say about the command decision he had just made…

That hopeful feeling was suddenly shaken by a sense of unrest. Frowning, Rowan tried to catch it in his mind, to see if he could find where it had come from. It seemed to be flying all around him. And it was growing stronger. Louder. Painful.

This unrest quickly grew to jolts of panic, repeatedly striking his mind and his heart. Distant screams of rage and terror were now echoing in his ears. With them came waves of stabbing pain, and a crushing grief. It felt as though he were drowning, as the cosmos resonated with the loss of an entire people.

Somewhere in the world, a tremendous amount of life force was being snuffed out like candle flame. Masses of people were suddenly dying somewhere, in great numbers, all at once. And it was happening over and over and over again.

He felt a mighty storm wind and the crashing of tidal waves in his minds, as his brothers felt the wailing cosmos as deeply as he did. He could hear them crying out in pain and gasping for air, as he was. There was a flash of light and a cracking noise, and he saw a brief glimpse the rainbow light of the Cavern of the Crystal behind his eyes. In his shock, Doss had dropped the wondrous Crystal, and it had hit the cold stone floor with a sickening smack.

Dizzy and nearly numb, Rowan toppled over out of his trance. He lay still on the floor for a moment, breathing deeply at last; but the multitude of terrified voices was still pounding in his head, begging what they had done to deserve their fate, despairingly crying out for help. The stabbing pain of thousands of lost lives was still creeping in his skin. He had lost contact with his brothers, but he knew that they, too, were reeling with all the senses and emotions he still felt.

He tried to focus him mind again, to find them and at least know that they were alright. Like agonizingly slow drops of water on cold stone, he heard Doss' voice speaking feebly.

" _Zadina… Why? Why are you doing this?"_

Like the barest stirring of the air, Mithren's tired voice joined his. _"Stop this… Sister, please, stop this madness! What is it even for?"_

And finally, all the way on the far side of their land, the grim knowledge came to Rowan. It was the news he had been secretly dreading for years. This storm of death and grief was coming from the Zebak lands. The Dragon Lord has lost her temper, and was slaughtering her own people in massive droves.

" _You can't do this,"_ he pleaded desperately. _"You can't!"_

Their different voices were clamoring as one, hoping against hope that the wayward Titan would hear them. That she might at least be vain enough to explain what she meant by this. That she might appear in their hive mind at all. Even though she was the one causing so much pain and suffering, they had never longed so terribly to have their missing Titan among them.

Cruel laughter echoed around them. No presence came with it, no sense of a great flame – nothing. Just a terrible voice they remembered, silencing the crying ones in their minds.

" _Where is your pretty wife, Red One? Where is your ugly daughter, or your stupid sister? All in this land belongs to me. It is mine! All my own! And all will pay for their betrayal – we will make sure of that."_

The faint breeze that was Mithren grew to a lashing wind, hissing with anger. _"You are a Titan!"_ he scolded. _"Keeper of flame! A daughter of the very son should know better!"_

" _I will pretend with you wretches no longer. Serve lower creatures and tend to their old ways. I have a real master. A master with true power. A master your precious Dragons can never hope to contend with. So serve your Dragons, while you can. The Shadow Lord has come, and none can escape his wrath!"_

And then, as suddenly as her voice had appeared among them, the voice of the Dragon Lord was gone. In their different places across the land, the true Titans lay where they had fallen, too exhausted and frightened to speak.

The Zebak were being destroyed. The Dragon Lord had their friends and family in her clutches. The monstrous being in the south had found a new servant, and it meant to use her to spread its darkness into the world.

It was over. And there was nothing they could do to stop it.

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Vivi had left the sewers against Keids' wishes. She had stayed in the den into the wee hours of the night, mostly because she was proud of her greatest accomplishment and wanted to show off her prize to all her friends. Her skinned arms and knees had been bandaged, and the medicine she had been given for the pain had made her drowsy. She now suspected that Keids had drugged her on purpose, to make her stay longer than she had meant to.

"No, no, now, Vivi girl, you gon' wait right here," he had told her firmly, pushing her into a pile of pillows. "Der be trouble a'brewin' up der t'night, and I ain't lettin' ye get all caught up in dat."

Vivi hadn't quite heard what he said, as she had dozed off for a while. When she had come around, it was nearly three o'clock in the morning. She had been startled and annoyed with herself, when her friends were certainly expecting her back. She had also been determined not to miss whatever came after the ball, because it had been sure to be mayhem. They needed her. Making sure the diadem was still secured in her bag, she had jumped up and snuck out of the den.

As she had backtracked through the sewers, the people around her had seemed anxious. They had all been speaking more loudly than usual, frightened and wary. Once or twice, she had heard some people babbling somewhere about fire in the street above, and a fighting force like no other overrunning the city. Vivi had hurried on her way, not really paying attention. If things were _really_ that bad, her friends would set it right. They always set things right, with their sneaky plans and secret magic. And all that had probably happened hours ago, while she had been sleeping. She shrugged and huffed to herself, annoyed that she had missed all the good parts of the battle.

Her way home was the usual route. She climbed a ladder and peeked out of the manhole above her, checking to see that no one was there. Of course, the alley behind Bhlai House was pitch black and empty at this time of night; she helped herself out of the hole, replaced the cover, and crept back to the door she knew best. It had been left unlocked for her, and she walked right in. She even groped around the counter in the dark, her fingers searching for another chunk of cake to celebrate her victory.

The cake and its platter were gone. Something squished and crunched under her feet, and she looked at the floor in puzzlement. Her eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and she could see what was left of the cake thrown on the floor, its platter smashed to pieces. Looking around the kitchen, she could see faintly that all the cupboards had been flung open, pots and plates and bowls scattered on the floor. The long kitchen table had been thrown on its side, its chairs toppled and broken.

Vivi's heart filled at once with fear. She reached into a gaping drawer for a candle, but found none. Squinting desperately in the dark, she picked on out of the mess and struggled to light it with a match from her own pocket. Her hands were shaking as they never had before.

With the lit candle in hand, she slowly made her way through the mess and into the common room. The warm, happy space she loved so much was destroyed. All of Thora's expensive things had been broken. The sitting chairs had been torn apart, their stuffing ripped out and thrown all over the room. The cinders of books still glowed faintly in the fireplace. The broken windows hung open, letting the shredded curtains tangle sadly in the night breeze.

Gazing in horror at the scene, Vivi backed away toward the stairs, wanting to search for her friends. Surely, she thought, they had outsmarted whatever had done this, and were hunkered down and hiding. She nearly tripped on something behind her, and she whirled around. What she saw made her jump, even squeak in alarm.

It was Simon. His body lay crumpled on the floor, lifeless eyes fixed on the ceiling, a gaping wound in his chest dark with blood.

Vivi felt a scream gathering in her throat. She had seen death many times in her short life; but it had never been someone she had known, or so violent and awful. She wanted to scream and cry, to run around the house shouting for someone she loved, but she dared not. The front door was hanging open, sagging on its hinges. Branded into it was the blackened mark of a hand.

She darted to close it before someone noticed her and the light from her candle. The door refused to close all the way, so she just leaned against it to hold it shut. At last, it was safe enough to sit and cry. She never cried, but everything she had found was a nightmare come to life. The house was destroyed. Simon was dead. Her friends were gone.

Her little brother was gone. Again. While she had gone off on another one of her stupid adventures, he had been taken. She hadn't been there to protect him, like she was supposed to be. He hadn't even been able to defend himself. She dropped the candle on the floor with the rest of the wreckage and buried her face in her hands, sobbing as she could now hear the rest of her city doing.

"Zizi… Zizi…"

"…Vivi?"

Her head shot up, and she saw a hole open up in the stairs before her. There was another light shining from that hole, and a blessedly familiar face was peering out. It was Zizi, alive and unharmed, in a hiding place so clever not even she had known of it. Her aching heart filled with joy, she jumped to her feet and dashed to the stairs. The little boy leaned out of his hiding place, reaching for his sister, and let her squeeze him nearly to death. He was squeezing her, too, though nowhere near as much; still, he was just as happy to see her as she was to see him.

"I thought – you were gone so – I didn't think you'd be back – never ever," Zizi babbled through tears of his own. "Why did you – why were you gone so long? Did you – did you get hurt? Did they get you? Did you have to – did you escape?"

Vivi sniffled and hurriedly brushed her tears away, pretending to be her usual confident and uncaring self for him. "Nah, I'm fine," she insisted, though she had never felt less fine in her life. "I was with Keids. He made me stay in the den for a while, but I got away eventually. So, I missed everything, huh?"

Zizi nodded. "I'm glad you – you wouldn't have – you wouldn't have liked it. It wasn't – it was bad. Real bad. They took everyone – everyone! They're going to the – to the dungeons – the one where I was! The worst one with – with the cries of despair!"

That was an awful idea. Though they had all won that night, Zizi still had nightmares about that dungeon from time to time. Those unanswered cries for help had touched his heart in a way that refused to heal. Thinking that their dearest friends were now trapped there and crying out uselessly with all the rest was unbearable.

"Well," Vivi said in her firmest tone, "they figured out how to escape once. They'll just do it again. You know, I bet they're halfway out of there by now. They'll be home by morning, I just know it."

Zizi shook his head. "No, no, they won't – they can't. Not with those – those – those _monsters_. Vivi, didn't you – didn't you see them? The gray monsters? They're – they're everywhere! Breaking things, hurting people – can't you hear them?"

No, she hadn't. She had been so focused on getting home, she had hardly noticed the sounds of her city screaming and burning all around her. Now that she listened, she did hear. It certainly sounded like the work of monsters. Not even Central Control could have caused mayhem quite like this to their own people.

There were heavy footsteps marching down the street. Vivi jumped at it, but Zizi just began pulling her urgently under the stairs.

"Come on, come on," he told her. "They – they come around all the time. They won't see us – not under here. But we can still see – we can see them, and then you'll – you'll see. They're monsters. _Real_ monsters. You'll see, Vivi, you'll see. And when – when they've gone, I'll – I'll tell you everything."

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 _Afterthoughts…_

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I guess now isn't a great time to tell you that this is the last chapter, which means I'm going on a short hiatus. Just for a month or so, to focus on my reading list and plan the details of _the last book!_

This one wrapped up a few months ahead of schedule, with a well-scripted outline and years of notes to look back on. The only last minute change was the inclusion of this prophecy, an idea I only came up with in the last year. I was worried that it would seem rushed and odd to cram it in this late; but given everything that's just happened with our heroes, I reasoned that this would be the last thing on most people's minds.

PJ Blindclown knows at least one of the final installation's many twists. Props, my dear; but there are so many more. _So many more_. 8D

SO. You can expect _The Reunion_ to air sometime around Halloween, I suppose. You can also expect a young Star or Alanis blurb to pop up in the time between. Maybe if my brother pesters me enough, another Manus and Gla-Thon short will happen. Who knows? I may even finally write that Britta story I keep saying I'm going to write. Mostly, though, I plan to stay up late reading, rather than writing, for a while. It's good to water your roots. ;)

Roses to all!


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